Of Touch
by Shorty Trenchrat
Summary: Captured during a Death Eater Rebellion, Severus Snape is tortured and looses both sight and hearing. Hermione is the only soul left with him in his cell, and she is the only one who can communicate with him to help him.
1. As the snow falls

Bonjour mes amis! This is my premier appearance, so please be nice. I really want to hear truthfully what you think about this chapter. it's not so great yet, so don't worry. it's only the default chapter! Please leave a review and I will update at least once a week (I think.). Please tell me if you find any errors of any kind so I can fix them! If I don't know about them, they won't get fixed! Pure logic, my friends, sheer and utter logic.  
  
Summary: This story is based mainly on Severus and Hermione. This will probably not be romance, because I have no talent when it comes to fluff. It will be very dark in later chapters, so if that offends you or disgusts you, there is a little back button at the top of the screen. I suggest you click it now before your brain becomes contaminated. Though the default chapter focuses mainly on Harry, the story will probably have nothing to do with Harry later on. I don't really know why I did that, I just kinda. did anyway.  
  
Ok, now onto our feature presentation! Grab some popcorn! Sit on down and make sure your comfortable! Enjoy!  
  
Of Touch (I know, crappy title, oy.I have to work on it)  
  
Default Chapter: As the snow falls.  
  
"I cannot believe that man!" Hermione cried angrily. She flicked her hair behind her shoulder, fighting, frustrated, with the pile of books in her arms. Just as she thought she had a firm hold on them, they slipped ungracefully from her grasp onto the stone floor. "Oh shit," she exclaimed, swooping low to retrieve them, her robes billowing as she sank to her knees, grumbling.  
  
Harry sighed and lowered himself to the floor to help her. "Relax, Hermione. You're acting like he killed your cat or something." He picked up her Herbology book, which she hastily snatched from his palm in her tantrum of rage. He sighed again and grabbed her shoulders. "Stop it!" he cried.  
  
She finally looked up and realized he was right in front of her face, his eyes full of worry. Her tense shoulders relaxed and she fell back on her knees. "I'm sorry, I'm just so stressed because-"  
  
"Of the N.E.W.Ts," Ron and Harry chorused, "yes, we know," finished Ron, smirking from where he stood, leaning leisurely against the door frame of the Potions classroom. He pushed the strap of his book bag further up his shoulder; "Haven't we told you time and again, they don't start till towards the end of the year? We haven't even been here for a month yet and you're in hysterics. What kind of state will you be in a week before them, eh?" he asked, leaning down to scoop up her quill and inkbottle. "We'll end up having to ship you off to St. Mungo's!"  
  
She turned her gaze away from them, down at the floor. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "and I really shouldn't blame it all on the N.E.W.Ts." She stood with her books securely in her arms this time. "I mean, how dare he speak to Pavarti like that? Just who does he think he is? And you, Harry," she turned to him, looking him in the face, "he had no right whatsoever to speak about your parents like that, especially in front of the whole class."  
  
Harry sighed and looked away. "Don't worry yourself over it, Hermione," he muttered quietly, "it makes no difference."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, Ron gestured for her to keep quiet from behind Harry's shoulder. She quickly recovered and shifted her books. She knew Harry was having a tough time lately, and didn't want to hear about it right now. "Well, we don't have charms 'till this afternoon," she said quietly. Her eyes suddenly brightened, "Hey, Harry," she said excitedly, "how about we go down and see Hagrid this afternoon?" She bumped him playfully in the arm, "I'm sure he would like that. We haven't seen him since last year."  
  
"Yeah," Ron joined in, "and then maybe we'll play a little Quidditch afterward?"  
  
Though at first he didn't seem to hear them, he slowly began to smile. "Sure," he said, "that sounds great."  
  
*  
  
They traveled back to their dormitories before beginning the trek down to Hagrid's small stone hut. Hermione was sure to grab her heaviest cloak after surveying the way the gigantic crystalline snowflakes were making their way down from the cloudless sky. Sticking her freezing feet into her furry boots, she met the boys down by the huge oak doors.  
  
She ran up to them shivering, even though they were still in the school. She blew on her already-gloved hands and smiled as she walked up to them. "Ready?"  
  
Ron was trembling in the cold as well. "Ssssurreee." he managed as his teeth chattered. He rubbed his hands together. Hermione noticed he was wearing some of Mrs. Weasly's famous knitted mittens, which were thick and warm, yet he still shuddered with the chill. Yet she noticed Harry did not. He simply stood, a neutral expression upon his face as he stared into nothing. "You ok, Harry?" she questioned.  
  
He jumped as if he had just noticed her there. "Oh, yeah," he recovered, "let's go."  
  
Hermione wanted to question him on what was bothering him, yet she knew he would lie to her. He had been so depressed, so detached lately, yet she didn't know exactly how to bring it up in conversation. He never talked to her or Ron anymore, and they grew slightly more worried everyday he ignored them. "He's just trying to be brave," was Ron's explanation, "He's trying to show he doesn't need our help, but it's just making him worse. Whatever his problem is, he can't handle it on his own."  
  
Hermione had agreed with him at the time, but she figured there was some underlying reason he was keeping things from them. Harry wasn't the secretive person. She figured something had happened over the summer, since he started acting depressed right off the Hogwarts Express. Behind his emerald eyes he was hiding something, yet she could talk to him long enough to delve deep enough into his thoughts. He kept their conversations short.  
  
Ron pushed open the double doors awkwardly and stepped into the perfect blanket of snow on the steps. "Coming?" he beckoned.  
  
When he didn't respond, Hermione nudged Harry in the arm with her elbow. "Come on," she urged, offering him her warm arm, "I'm cold."  
  
He chuckled and took her arm, and she smiled, finally happy he registered her presence. "You know I'm here if you need to talk, Harry," she whispered, making sure they were out of Ron's earshot. They made their way through the feet of snow, stumbling awkwardly as they sank deeper into it with every step.  
  
Knocking on Hagrid's large door, they could hear Fang's booming barks echoing off the brick interior as well as Hagrid's bellowing for him to be quiet. Hermione smiled at the memory of their previous years, of their times there. She realized how she really had missed the place. Her house was lonely, no one to talk to but her parents, and even they didn't listen to her most of the time. When Hagrid's rosy face appeared in the doorway, her heart felt a leap of joy as she finally felt home. "Hullo, Hagrid," she greeted, sending him a smile.  
  
She thought she could see him return it to her, but she wasn't sure, as she couldn't see under his bushy black beard. "Hermione!" he chuckled, "It's great teh see yeh." He turned his beetle black eyes to Ron. "And you, too," he smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. But as he turned to Harry, his eyes suddenly feel downcast. "Harry," he muttered, "What's the matter?"  
  
Harry was jolted back into reality with a "thump" as he turned back to Hagrid, his eyes glassy and unfocused. "I'm sorry, Hagrid," he apologized, still a little shaky, "my mind is on other things. what were you saying?"  
  
Hagrid wasn't convinced. "Why don't yeh come inside an' have some tea wit' me? I was jus' thinkin' of makin' some."  
  
Ushering them inside and out of the cold, with a specific reassuring hand on Harry's back, Hagrid pushed them inside, where they were greeted with a rush of warmth. Hermione still had her arm linked with Harry's, and she dragged him over with her in front of the warm hearth. Hagrid shuffled off into the kitchen portion of his hut, and Ron fell comfortably into a cushion chair by the fire as well.  
  
Hermione sat in front of the hearth on the floor, and she noticed Harry followed robotically after her. He simply stared off into the fire, his eyes glazed as if he were about on the verge of tears. Seeing that Ron was practically asleep already, engulfed in the humungous cozy wool and cotton blankets draped over the back of the chair, she decided to ask Harry again. Placing a friendly hand on his shoulder, she caught him off guard and won his attention. "Please, Harry," she said quietly, making sure she didn't catch Hagrid's attention, "tell me what's bothering you. I won't laugh, I promise."  
  
Harry looked at her, a look of deep depression and anxiety and stress upon his face. She was shocked to see it in him, of all people, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. Why hadn't she and Ron noticed this before? Could they have been so blind?  
  
"Please," she choked.  
  
Harry looked back into the fire. "It's nothing to worry about," he whispered, almost to the point of being inaudible, "I'm fine."  
  
"Oh, horse feathers," cried Hagrid as he dropped a cup to the floor, watching it shatter.  
  
Hermione jumped with the loud sound, but Harry didn't seem to notice. "Bullshit," she said angrily, at the same time making sure she was quiet enough not to draw attention, "I know something's up Harry, you're just making it worse by not telling me."  
  
He continued to stare off into the cackling fire and didn't answer her. Hagrid appeared with a new mug for each of them, with steaming chamomile and vanilla aromas drifting from each cup. He handed one to Hermione, who uttered a quiet "thank you" and one to Harry, who said nothing, never removing his eyes from the fire. Hagrid seemed to note this also, but said nothing. While placing a mug on the side table and nudging Ron, Hagrid also held one for himself. He took a place in a seat close to the fire, sitting closest to Harry. "So, how's ev'rything a' school, Harry?" he asked pleasantly. "I hope none of your teachers ar' givin' yeh a hard time, eh?"  
  
Harry didn't jump this time, nor did he remove his gaze. "No, everything is great. School's fine," he answered in monotone.  
  
Hagrid seemed incredulous. "Harry what's 'a matter wit' yeh? Yeh seem downtrodd'n."  
  
Harry face suddenly contorted with anger. "Why does EVERYONE ask me that? I'm fine! Life is sweet and dandy like it's always been! Just leave me alone!" He set down his mug with a 'thud' and stormed out into the snowy weather, which had turned to a blizzard. Hermione ran to the window to see him running off into the snow, shivering and cold, covering his face with his scarf.  
  
Ron had finally realized where he was and was wide-awake. "What happened?" he stuttered, sitting up in his chair.  
  
Hermione ran to the door. "I'm going after him," she announced, heaving open the door. Fang jumped to his feet as well did Hagrid and Ron.  
  
"Yer kiddin' me, Hermione," he cried, "Yeh can' go out in this weather! You'll freeze!"  
  
But she hadn't heard him. She was already out the door, on her way to the castle.  
  
Hagrid stared sorrowfully after her as she followed the now unseen Harry back to Hogwarts through the thick sheet of snow. He could feel Ron's presence next to him and he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you reckon he'll be alright, Hagrid?"  
  
He wished he had a solid answer, but he didn't. "Don't know, Ron. Don't know."  
  
::Gasps:: Wow, you read the whole thing. God bless you! NOW CHILDREN. see the little review button? It's calling to you. it says 'click me! Click me!' Remember, this button is your friend..  
  
Chapter 2 will be out in about a week so keep checking back!  
  
Have a nice day!  
  
Or, if you prefer, a bad day.  
  
~Shorty Trenchrat 


	2. Like silent raindrops fell

I'm BAAAAACKK! Did you miss me? We'll of course you didn't! I haven't been gone that long! Haha… I told you I was insane… well I'm just here to update, so don't mind me. I hope you enjoyed the default chapter, and are now ready for the beginning of the plot line! ::YAY!:: I know, I know, that last chapter was a weird one, but I'm weird too, so you all know where it comes from… ::ahem:: anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter also and would like to remind everyone that review is your friend! It will not harm you, but may use up a second or two, and that's an awfully small price to pay when I will love you forever in return! ::Innocent smile::  
  
Ok on to chapter 1….  
  
**  
  
Hermione ran to the door. "I'm going after him," she announced, heaving open the door. Fang jumped to his feet as well did Hagrid and Ron.  
  
"Yer kiddin' me, Hermione," he cried, "Yeh can' go out in this weather! You'll freeze!"  
  
But she hadn't heard him. She was already out the door, on her way to the castle.  
  
Hagrid stared sorrowfully after her as she followed the now unseen Harry back to Hogwarts through the thick sheet of snow. He could feel Ron's presence next to him and he placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you reckon he'll be alright, Hagrid?"  
  
He wished he had a solid answer, but he didn't. "Don't know, Ron. Don't know."  
  
**  
  
Chapter 1: Like silent raindrops fell… (Pretend cookies to anyone who knows the song I stole the title from {it's really not that hard}…)  
  
  
  
She could barely raise her legs high enough to clear the snow covering and had trouble reaching the castle. She had to drag her way through the snow, and she found herself slowly loosing energy. Watching the clouds of mist puff up as she breathed made her yearn for the warm common room. She could see the huge wooden doors slowly approaching, and wondered if she would make it there before she would give up and fall flat onto her face.  
  
Harry had startled her with his reaction at the hut. He had never exploded like that; especially at Hagrid. She felt ashamed for him, and hoped silently that Hagrid hadn't taken it personally, which he probably would. She thought she had known Harry well; now, she wasn't so sure.  
  
Reaching the double doors she heaved them open, shaking the snowflakes from her hair and robes. Stomping on the ground to shake the layer of snow off her boots, she started towards the common room. She knew the chances of him actually being there were slim, yet she figured it was a good place to start.  
  
Creaking open the portrait after giving the password she slipped into the warm common room, surveying the empty chairs. Her heart fell when she didn't see his mop of unruly hair popping up from above the couch or cushioned chairs. Stepping over to the fire and taking a seat, she buried her face in her hands. What had set Harry off like that? She rubbed her temples. She had never known him to be so violent with his anger. She knew that if he was angry enough he could cause damage… she wanted to prevent that from happening. But just the fact that he was so irate disturbed her. It was so unusual, so uncalled for, so…  
  
Footprints.  
  
She suddenly realized the slowly fading trail of footprints traveling from the portrait hole towards a curtained wall. Covered with an elaborate wall hanging depicting scenes from early Shakespearian works, and she had often spent time daydreaming, looking at the intertwining threads of many colors. But she had never looked behind the hanging before. Now that there was a stream of melting snowy-muddy tracks leading towards a seemingly stable wall, her mind began to wonder. Could there be a secret passage behind the hanging?  
  
She crept tentatively towards the hanging, as if someone could possibly be watching her, reached over, and gave it a pull.  
  
Recoiling quickly as if afraid something evil was going to jump out upon her, she realized all that stood behind the hanging was a brick wall.  
  
Well, and a small door.  
  
The door came only up to about her shoulders and was craved with elaborate pictures and designs. Flowers knotted around the borders, and even though the dye was faded, she could tell that the wood had once been bright and colorful. The pictures were beautiful, and she had never seen such work before in her life. Yet it was strange, she noted, that the door had no handle; only a rusted keyhole, from which protruded an old, decaying, gnarled key. It was a large key, and she wondered why, if Harry was here, he had never told them about this place before.  
  
Grasping the key uncertainly, she yanked, and the door slid open. She crept into the shadowy depths of the long shallow passageway and silently hoped she wouldn't make too much noise. The rocky floor was uneven, with bricks protruding in awkward places, and she had trouble walking. She tripped several times, and she wanted to reach out to the walls next to her, but she was afraid to touch them. The place was degusting, with mold and the smell of decay in the air. It was stuffy, tight, and she wanted desperately to leave, yet seeing Harry happy was something she wanted more.  
  
When she finally saw light at the end of the hallway, her heart leapt with joy. She stumbled out of the corridor, and fell, not realizing there was a small drop into the connecting room.  
  
Looking up she saw a vast room filled with chairs and cushioned couches. Portraits hung from the walls, and the carpet was a deep maroon. Pushing herself up she realized Harry was huddled in a corner, his head buried in is arms as he pulled his knees to his chest. She reached out to him as worry filled her, and touched his shoulder.  
  
"Harry?" she whispered.  
  
"Go away, Hermione," came the muffled reply.  
  
She tried again. "Harry please, I-"  
  
"Go AWAY."  
  
Hermione faltered. She was taken aback by his hostile attitude. Never had he acted so annoyed by her presence, or taken offence to her asking him if he was all right.  
  
"Harry stop this now," she cried, "You're being ridiculous." She grabbed his wrist and wretched it way from his face. "Harry, look at me."  
  
He threw her off and curled into himself further, hiding his face.  
  
"Harry, look at me."  
  
"Don't look at me, just leave me alone! I just want to be by myself!" he cried, his voice cracking as if he were about to cry.  
  
"LOOK AT ME DAMN IT!"  
  
She peeled away his arm and took his face into her hands. She was shocked to find her fingers melting hot tears rolling down his face, and when her eyes met red-rimmed glassy emerald-green ones. Her heart fell as he sniffled, still trying to wipe the tears from his face. "Harry, you… you never told me I… You should have… you never had to… oh, Harry…"  
  
She wrapped her arms around him in a comforting embrace. She expected him to pull away and snap at her, but instead, after a few seconds, she felt the pressure of his arms around her torso. He buried his face into her shoulder and broke down, sobbing into her robes. She rubbed gentle circles into his back, letting him release. Whatever was bothering him, he couldn't handle anymore. She felt her shoulder dampen, but it didn't matter.  
  
His hands clutched at her robes and his muscles tightened, and she quietly tried to calm him. She never thought he would have it in him; that he would always be able to deal with what was bothering him in a more productive way, but it seemed he couldn't. She was worried as to what could have possibly happened, to make him feel so utterly hopeless.  
  
After he had calmed down enough to talk, she pulled away from him and leaned against the wall next to him. "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked tentatively.  
  
He stared into his hands. "It started over the summer."  
  
"Vernon lost his job. He never told me why, but I suspect it had to do something with his temper, the way he was ranting about it when he came home that day. He had sent me to my room before I had even done anything, and I complied because I knew he would yell at me anyway and I didn't want to start anything. I could hear him and Petunia fighting down in the kitchen. I heard a loud thump, and a crash, and glass shattering. Suddenly Petunia started crying, and fearing he had hit her, I went down to stop him before he killed anyone. He had started drinking months ago, and he would come home drunk and order people around in his slurred voice. I figured he had been out drinking again, with the way he was yelling. I went into the kitchen, and found Petunia on the floor crying into her hands.  
  
"I found that what I had feared had actually happened, but before I could move he was on top of me. I couldn't breathe; he jumped on me, started beating my head. He kicked me in the stomach, the ribs… I could almost feel them shattering in my chest."  
  
He gained back his gazed look as he continued to stare into his hands. Hermione placed a warm hand on his shoulder. "That week, I couldn't move from my bed." His eyes filled with hurtful tears. "Aunt Petunia was somewhat sympathetic and helped me recover. She would sneak food into my room at night and sometimes during the day when Vernon was out or busy in his office. She wouldn't talk about it though. She had a huge bruise on her face for a week. Dudley was the only one who had managed not to get damaged. Aunt Petunia were still planning their escape when I boarded the train." He stared out into the room. "They could be dead right now for all I know."  
  
He paused, and Hermione thought about what to say to him. But he started again before she could think of anything. "On the train, I remember, looking out the window at the trees and things passing by, and praying to God that I wouldn't have to go back there next summer. The thought of having to spend any more time in that house with that man scared me out of my mind.  
  
"When Professor Snape started chiding me in class, it made me feel worse. It made me realize that if it wasn't for me, my parents would still be here and I wouldn't have to worry about going back to the Dursleys. If it wasn't for me, they would still be alive."  
  
"Harry, you know that's not true-"  
  
He didn't seem to hear her, as he continued talking. "I began to realize how they were all right… My aunt and uncle, Snape, Malfoy… all of them were right… I am worthless."  
  
"Harry, how could you think that?" she asked.  
  
"What have I ever done to repay them for their sacrifice?" he asked her. "I try and do something right and look what I did… Cedric died because of me. I should have died, not him."  
  
"That wasn't your fault Harry… you didn't know he was about to be murdered."  
  
Harry didn't respond. He seemed to have not heard her. "No one blames you for Cedric's death," she said.  
  
"They don't have to; I blame myself."  
  
Hermione suddenly became angry with him. "You're being stupid," she scolded, "You mean a lot to Ron and me, and especially to Hagrid, whom I think you thoroughly offended today when you yelled at him. You mean a lot to your professors, even to Snape, I'm sure, and particularly to Dumbledore. We care deeply for you Harry, and your ignorance is blinding you. How can you ignore all these people that love you?"  
  
He simply stared at her.  
  
"We love you for who you are, not for what has happened. You are a good person, and we know that."  
  
She gave him a bear hug, and was relieved when he returned it. "You just need some reassurance once and a while, is all." She patted him on the back, "I believe Herbology begins in half and hour, so let's go and get our things, and maybe meet up with Ron, ok?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
They traveled back to the common room, and Hermione was sure to ensure no one was in sight before entering the room. "How'd you find me, by the way?" he asked.  
  
Hermione smiled. "It's somewhat obvious when you leave a trail of snowy footprints…"  
  
Harry faltered. "Oh."  
  
"Don't worry about it. I won't tell Ron if you don't want me to."  
  
"Would you?" he asked, "I'd rather tell him myself…" he replied.  
  
"Ok," she agreed.  
  
Fred and George stumbled into the common room. They traveled over to where Harry stood, their cheeks and noses rosy from the cold, Hermione presumed. "Hey Harry!" said one (Harry suspected it was George); "Professor Sprout cancelled Herbology this afternoon! Ron said you guys don't have class!"  
  
Harry smiled, "That's great," he exclaimed.  
  
"Yeah, and Lee Jordan and Ron wanted to know if you would join us our snowball fight?" asked the other excitedly.  
  
"Sure," said Harry, and Hermione beamed. He was actually willing to interact with other people without being pressured. "And Hermione too?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," said George.  
  
"If she doesn't mind getting creamed," retorted Fred.  
  
Hermione placed her hands on her hips. "And what is that supposed to mean? Don't think I can handle some snow in the face?"  
  
"No, I was more thinking, you couldn't handle some snow in the butt," said George with a genuine Cheshire grin.  
  
Hermione gaped at him. "Oh, I'll show YOU some snow in the butt!" she answered, and dodged straight for him.  
  
He yelped like a small dog and spun the other way, bolting towards the portrait hole, Hermione hot on his heels. Harry laughed as Fred chased after them, screaming, "Don't kill him Hermione! I'm sure he was only kidding!"  
  
Harry followed and found Hermione belting snowballs at George outside, who was getting hit repeatedly until his black cloak was almost completely white. Fred was hiding cowardly behind one of the huge trees, his hands over his head. "She's a madwoman!" Fred cried as Harry walked over. "She's going to murder George! Make her stop!"  
  
Ron and Lee were laughing madly behind another tree, Ron doubled over, clutching in stomach and Lee rolling around on the ground in the snow. George was being bombarded with snow in the buttocks, and he came running over and swooped behind Harry crying "Save me! Save me!" and clutched at his shoulders, peering like a frightened child over his cloak. Harry was caught off guard, and stumbled slightly.  
  
Hermione grinned evilly as she packed a tight snowball in her mittened hands. "You coward, get out here and fight like a man."  
  
George shrank lower behind Harry.  
  
Ron and Lee were bursting at the seams. Hermione turned to them, and eyebrow raised, "What, dear friends, is so hysterically funny?"  
  
Ron was able to reach out and point his index finger at her.  
  
Hermione took it offensively. "Oh, so I'M what you're laughing at? You think I'm something to laugh at? Well how about you laugh at this!"  
  
Aiming precisely at his face, Hermione threw the snowball at Ron. Being caught off guard, Ron took it right in the nose, and abruptly stopped laughing. Lee burst even harder, and George and Fred were soon on the ground, and Harry began laughing as well.  
  
Hermione scooped another snowball into her hands. "Since you all think this is so funny, who wants to be next?"  
  
The laughing suddenly halted, and the scurrying of feet could be heard. Both Fred and George bolted towards the nearest hiding spot, and Ron and Lee, having nowhere to hide, ran across the school grounds.  
  
Harry chuckled, and Hermione gave him a disbelieving look. "And what makes you so special?" she asked.  
  
Harry suddenly stopped laughing, suddenly looking like a deer caught in headlights. "Oh…"  
  
"Oh is right, Mister," said Hermione, chucking a snowball his way as he sprinted after Ron and Lee. Hermione followed, flinging snowballs at him as they went.  
  
It turned out to be a very enjoyable evening.  
  
*  
  
"I'm exhausted."  
  
Hermione snorted, her head propped up on one hand as she played with her warm cereal. "Well whose fault is that? It's not my fault you had to anger me to the extent that you did. Otherwise I wouldn't have whipped you yesterday."  
  
Harry sighed. "Not again, you too. You've been bickering since yesterday. I thought you guys would have calmed down with sleep."  
  
Ron yawned. "Well, it might have if I had actually been able to sleep. My back was throbbing so hard I didn't drift off till past one in the morning."  
  
Hermione smirked as she let the cereal slide off the spoon back into the bowl. "Well maybe next time you'll remember how bad I clobbered you and you won't entice me again."  
  
Ron sniggered, but didn't reply. Harry was the next to yawn. "We have double potions with the Slytherins today, don't we?" he asked Hermione.  
  
She watched the cereal slide down her spoon again as Ron picked up his toast. "Yup." She sighed. "Well, at least it's Friday, and we don't have any classes after that," she answered.  
  
Ron looked towards the door. "I suppose we should get going. Looks like Snape's on the prowl."  
  
And indeed he was. Swooping into the doorway, black robes billowing, he eyed every student with pure disgust. A look of utter loathing upon his face, he made his way towards the Professors' table, snapping at unsuspecting students.  
  
"Let's go," said Ron, "I don't need a detention right now."  
  
Forgetting about breakfast, the three made their way to the common room for their things before Potions.  
  
*  
  
The shattering of glass echoed around the stone dungeon.  
  
He recoiled, waiting for the blow…  
  
"How many times to I have to tell you people TO HANDLE ALL MATERIAL WITH CARE! Sometimes, I wonder about you Mr. Longbottom, if you try to be foolhardy, or you were born that way."  
  
Most of the Gryfindors shot angry looks towards Snape, but made sure he didn't see them. He was exceptionally moody today, and Harry and Ron figured it had something to do with the dead animals Fred and George left in their cauldron the day before when they had had potions…  
  
Watching Snape descend on poor Neville, the Gryfindors looked on with horror, hoping he wouldn't traumatize the boy to death. Hermione was becoming more and more annoyed with Snape beating on him, and every day her anger boiled further. Harry and Ron suspected she would explode sometime soon, and tried to keep her attitude under control.  
  
"You will not receive another vial for the potion, therefore you will receive a zero for today's lesson." Realizing the whole class was watching the ordeal, Snape became furious. "This is not a circus act! GET BACK TO YOUR POTIONS! IF THEY ARE NOT FINISHED BY THE END OF CLASS YOU WILL STAY AFTER TO COMPLETE IT AS WELL AS RECEIVING DETENTION!"  
  
Everyone jumped and frantically began fixing their potions, cutting roots, and extracting substances. Snape circled the room like a hawk, picking on innocent victims, bellowing at the top of his lungs. His black robes swirled forebodingly as he stalked the isles, barking like a madman. Harry cringed as he heard his footsteps approaching his work desk. He could hear the sound of his metal boots clanking against the stone floor, growing closer and he moved towards his desk. His voice rattled in his ears as he yelled at other students.  
  
Clank. Clank.  
  
"Miss Patil! What are you doing? I precisely told you NOT to cut those before placing them in the oil… you'll have to go and fetch new ones."  
  
Clunk. Clunk.  
  
"Mister Thomas, you fool, dragon's scales before phoenix tears. What are you trying to do? Kill the poor person? This is an antidote, not a poison."  
  
Clank. Clunk.  
  
Harry looked down at the cauldron he was brewing, halting his stirring for a moment to check to see if it was boiling yet. His face fell, though, when he realized the potion was a sickly yellow, unlike the bright green they were supposed to have. There was no time to try and fix the problem, however, because he suddenly felt his Professor's presence behind him, casting a shadow across his desk.  
  
"Mister Potter, do you have any idea how to follow directions? I can see you placed the crushed lizard pelvic bone in your cauldron before the feline eyes. This cannot be fixed. You will be receiving a zero along with Mister Longbottom. You shall see me after class."  
  
Harry felt his cheeks begin to burn, but didn't look his Professor in the eye.  
  
"I remember your father wasn't very adept at potions, either. He seemed to be melting a cauldron every time he was in the classroom."  
  
The Slytherin side of the room began snorting with silent laughter as the Gryfindors looked on angrily.  
  
"Your mother was very intelligent also, always mixing her ingredients backwards. Killed her own pet cat, too, when the professor tried her shrinking potion on the poor animal."  
  
Hermione looked up from her table, spotting Harry clenching his fists at his sides as his cheeks turned a violent shade of rose. Shut up, you bastard she thought at Snape, wishing he would burst into flames at that very moment.  
  
"Looks like stupidity is a dominant trait in your family tree. It seems it didn't skip a generation, either."  
  
The Slytherins exploded in hoots of laughter as they banged their fists against the tabletops. Hermione rose from her seat but Ron grabbed her sleeve before she could move any further.  
  
But Snape was relentless. "But I'm sure brains aren't everything, Potter. I suppose you could always find work at a zoo, I'm sure they'd accept you there." He walked around to the front of the room. "Not saying anything, Potter? Think you're still perfect?" A quirky smile ran across his face. "You'll just have to learn no one's perfect in this world, especially not you."  
  
Hermione was way past boiling at this point. She could tell he was taking in every word, believing everything he said. She could see the tears brimming in his eyes. He'd better stop talking; he'd better stop speaking to him like that…  
  
Snape was circling him like a hawk now, watching him closely. Harry was afraid to move; afraid he would make a wrong move.  
  
"Are you sure you haven't been taking lessons from Longbottom these past few weeks? Because it seems to me you've become very careless with your work, and we wouldn't want famous Harry Potter to fail any classes now would we, it might be a little too humiliating for his precious-"  
  
"STOP IT!"  
  
The whole classroom went silent as her distinct voice sounded through the chamber. Hermione was now next to Harry, an expression of pure hatred upon her face.  
  
"Leave him alone!"  
  
Snape slowly turned to her. "What did you say to me, girl?"  
  
  
  
Dun dun dun… I hope this suffices for a cliffhanger… Now, faithful readers, please REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Or I'll have to send Snape on you…  
  
I just want to thank all the people who reviewed on my first chapter! You really have no idea how happy you made me! Thanks go out to Berty 'n Beans (my very first reviewer! THANK YOU!), Synia, Persephone13, Super Q, Li- chan, catsrule dogsdrool, Tess, The Smiley Bandit, Nicky, ME!!!!(whoever this is), Blue Haired Trenchrat, and Kellybean. Thank you guys soooo much! And please keep reviewing! 


	3. A Punishment to Fit the Crime

Author's ramblings: I still can't believe how many wonderful reviews I've received! You people are wonderful… ::sniffles as tears well up in her eyes:: They like me, they really like me! I'm just telling you now, I'm probably not going to update as quickly as I did for my last chapter… I am a freshman, and therefore I do have homework and a social life to attend to, but since I've been receiving such wonderful reviews I will continue posting! You guys are wonderful, really… I enjoyed reading all your opinions and my self-esteem soared… I was so afraid you guys weren't going to like it because it was mushy… and don't worry, Snape will be present in all future chapters from now on… hehehe… he is so sexy… I love him, he is wonderful:: romantic sigh:: … and if I just made you gag, I don't know if you want to continue reading this… Anyway, I'm really happy with the results, and I'll continue posting.  
  
Sorry about the lame insults on Snape's part in the last chapter… I just wanted to keep it PG for at least some of the beginning chapters… but I won't hold back in later chapters, so be aware… it is rated PG13 for a reason…  
  
Oh yeah! I almost forgot…  
  
Disclaimer: Hehehe… I know, I know, I forgot in the last chapters… Nothing belongs to me except the plot, honest! It's all come into being because of J.K Rowling. There's no use in suing me, I have no money I swear! Just babysitting cash, and I'm sure it would cost more to hire lawyers than to get my money…  
  
Anyway, thank you all for reviewing and finding my errors… I love you guys! :: Sniff::  
  
MWUAHAHAHAHA! On to chapter… (Dun dun dun…) 2!  
  
**  
  
Snape was circling him like a hawk now, watching him closely. Harry was afraid to move; afraid he would make a wrong move.  
  
"Are you sure you haven't been taking lessons from Longbottom these past few weeks? Because it seems to me you've become very careless with your work, and we wouldn't want famous Harry Potter to fail any classes now would we, it might be a little too humiliating for his precious-"  
  
"STOP IT!"  
  
The whole classroom went silent as her distinct voice sounded through the chamber. Hermione was now next to Harry, an expression of pure hatred upon her face.  
  
"Leave him alone!"  
  
Snape slowly turned to her. "What did you say to me, girl?"  
  
**  
  
"You heard me!" the girl screamed, then suddenly recoiled. What in the world was she saying?  
  
Snape's eyes grew wide with immense surprise. His nostrils flared, and his face blanched. He could feel the muscles grow tighter in his jaw as it clenched along with his fists. He tried to hold back the twitch that he could feel pulling at his left eye. His eyes and ears must be playing tricks on his mind… was this the real Hermione Granger? Was it she who had just spoken back against him?  
  
It had been like a slap in the face. And a very hard one, at that. Never had any student retaliated back in his face such as she had. Not to mention the fact that it was one of his most prized and precious students (not that he'd ever admit it, or even let the thought enter his brain). She had a wit that cracked like a whip, and an attitude to match, though she didn't like to let it show. Yet sometimes, sometimes if her stress level reached critical mass and someone happened to light a match…  
  
Though he could see her mind clogs spinning as unbelievable speeds, he could see the mixture of anger and embarrassment rising in her young cheeks. But she never removed her eyes. Her eyes remained locked with his, the swirling hazel orbs never relenting. Never did she back down. She had potential, this one.  
  
How could she have been so stupid?  
  
She could feel her cheeks begin to burn with humility. She could hear the silence of the classroom echoing around her hollow ears along with the ringing on her eardrum. Everyone had gone silent; even the snide Slytherins had nothing to say about this, nor to laugh about. She could feel Draco staring right into her skin, piercing her right down to the bone, melting her barrier with his freezing pupils. She could hear Snape's hoarse breathing, could tell he was furious by the way it was steadily growing more labored. Don't back down, this is the time to show what you're made of! screamed her mind. Yet the rational portion of her brain shook with fear. You'll be expelled! it cried, what will your parents think?  
  
But at this point she didn't care.  
  
Though it had seemed like hours, only seconds had passed. "I told you to back off, ok? You have no right to speak to anyone like that!"  
  
Where she had found her voice, she had absolutely no idea, but she now regretted unearthing it. But now it had started, she wouldn't stop…  
  
"Do you know how much you hurt your students when you bark at them like that? And you probably wonder at night where they find so much hatred for you in their puny hearts!" her fists clenched under her desk. "Poor Neville is scared stiff of you-"  
  
"Enough…" he growled.  
  
"His self-esteem is now where to be found because of you. I have no idea why Professor Dumbledore lets you even walk in these halls-"  
  
"Stop it this instant!" he bellowed.  
  
Her face contorted with anger as she kept her eyes on his. Hers were filling with tears now, but she couldn't hide them. Watching Snape's eyes as he grew more and more irate gave her one of the worst feelings in the world. Though his eyes were pitch black, she could still read all his emotions quite clearly. There was a ring of anger quite preeminent among them, and it portrayed itself glittering around his pupil. Confusion lingered within his pupil's depths, and kept it contracting and dilating constantly. Pride was seen in the whites of his eyes, yet at the moment it was overshadowed. Yet there was one more, one more important emotion. One she couldn't quite place.  
  
1 Fear? No…  
  
"Miss Granger, you will remove yourself from this room immediately!"  
  
2 Displeasure? Close, but not close enough…  
  
"NOW!"  
  
When she made no move to leave, this infuriated Snape even more.  
  
"OUT OF MY CLASSROOM NOW!"  
  
Her face contorted with fury. "I HATE YOU!" she bit out, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, "I HOPE YOU ROT IN HELL!"  
  
She hastily grabbed her books and threw them into her bag. Grabbing her ink and quill, she quickly turned and threw open the door, and slammed it shut.  
  
She gasped as realization dawned on her.  
  
It couldn't be…  
  
3 Hurt?  
  
*  
  
Everyone cringed as the door slammed.  
  
Half of the Gryffindors, including Ron, smirked with raise eyebrows at the teenager who had just exited the room. The other half stared wide-eyed at Snape, unsure of how he was going to respond. Not knowing whether or not he was going to hit the roof, they stayed where they stood or sat, and tried as hard as they might not to make a sound.  
  
The Slytherins were even more unsure as to how to act, if it was even possible. Filled with fright and apprehension, they all stared off at the door, or towards Snape.  
  
Snape kept his eyes glued to the door. He knew the whole class was depending on him to act next. He could sense the eyes of every color shooting holes in his insides.  
  
Making them all gasp a sharp breath, he turned quickly on his heel and stormed towards his desk. Plopping himself in his chair, he quickly buried his face in his hands.  
  
Noticing how no one had made a move to complete the assignment, he turned his head upward, facing his class. "Well?" he asked, "What are you waiting for, a proper invitation? GET TO WORK!"  
  
The scurrying of hurried footsteps could be heard making their way around every inch of the classroom. Containers clanked, vials clicked, cauldrons began to boil once more.  
  
Oh, the normal chaotic peace had once more been restored.  
  
And it sounded wonderful.  
  
*  
  
Now that she was out of the murky depths of the dungeon, she realized she had no idea where she was supposed to go now that she'd been kicked out. She'd never been rejected from a classroom before in her entire life.  
  
Realizing her mistake, she slowly slid down the side of the wall, letting her bag fall off her shoulder. She heard it smack the ground with a loud thud, and listened as its sound echoed off the walls.  
  
Feeling hot tears begin to travel down her cheeks once more, she sniffled, buried her head in her knees, and cried.  
  
*  
  
Entangling his long fingers in his hair, he closed his eyes and sighed.  
  
He had just had to choose to become a professor, didn't he?  
  
Feeling a slow migraine creeping it's way behind his eyes, he buried his head in his arms. It felt good to finally relieve his neck of stress, even though it didn't lessen the pounding in is head. It ricocheted off every corner of his skull and pounded like a bullet down his back, yet he couldn't leave his class. Not yet.  
  
Not without a lecture from Albus.  
  
Clinging to his last ounce of sanity, he dared raise his head to see the progress his class had made.  
  
To his great surprise, all of his students were working diligently and without mishap. Neville's cauldron was still intact, and the potion he was brewing seemed to be the right color and consistency.  
  
And all without the help of Granger.  
  
4 The world must be coming to and end…  
  
The bell chimed, and they all cleaned their places and left silently.  
  
Thank Merlin.  
  
*  
  
Hearing the chime, she jumped.  
  
The class was over.  
  
Panic over took her senses. Where was she going to hide? If she wasn't hiding from Snape's wrath alone, she didn't want anyone to see her tearful and shy; especially Ron and Harry. Grabbing her bag, she hastily jumped to her feet, and sprinted down the hall.  
  
Where to hide… where to hide…  
  
She didn't care where she went now. The doors blurred, along with the windows. She could barely see the floor through her tears now; not that it mattered. She only wanted to run away, find a place to throw away her fears. Find someone she could trust, someone she could cry on.  
  
But no one could fulfill those requirements.  
  
No one but her parents, possibly, but they weren't here.  
  
Oh, what had she done? How could she have been so stupid? What would Snape think? Dumbledore would be furious… she had insulted a professor. She would be expelled… she would have to go back to living as a muggle, with no one like her anywhere… she'd be forced to leave her life behind…  
  
She suddenly felt herself collide with a solid substance. Drawing in a quick breath and pulling back, she realized she had run head long into another person; Professor Lupin.  
  
Circe, this just wasn't her day.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry, Professor, I wasn't watching where I was going…" she said quickly, trying to save herself from the humiliation creeping up into her cheeks.  
  
Bending down to pick up her bag, which had slipped from her grasp, she tried to wipe her face without him seeing. He, however, was too observant for her.  
  
"No, my fault entirely," he said with a warm smile. "Are you alright, Hermione?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," she said quickly. Rather too quickly.  
  
His smile faded slightly. He couldn't hide the concern showing in his eyes. "Why don't you come and have a cup of tea with me? I was just on my way to the classroom."  
  
Looking up at him, she nodded.  
  
Well, at least he wasn't Snape.  
  
*  
  
"Your behavior today was irresponsible, obnoxious, atrocious, discriminating…"  
  
Oh good, another lecture.  
  
"It was uncalled for, deliberate on your part…"  
  
The eardrums, please, eardrums…  
  
"Your behavior will not go unnoticed. Speaking to any person like that is inappropriate under any circumstance-"  
  
"Oh, come off it, Albus."  
  
Snape closed his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose his thumb and index finger. He sighed, hearing Dumbledore shifting in his chair somewhat angrily. Snape knew he had been planning this 'discussion' for a while now, and he was waiting for the fateful day that he would be called into his office for an hour of ranting. He knew it was somewhat his fault; that he was bringing it on himself, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to be scolded on how to run his own classroom.  
  
Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh. "Severus," he started, rising from his chair and drifting over to the window, surveying the grounds, "I understand the type of pressure you are undergoing at the present moment and I also understand the burdensomeness of the mission." He linked his hands in front of him, never removing his gaze from the view outside. "You must, however, also realize the strain it also exerts on your other students as well," he began to examine his hands, "especially Harry."  
  
Snape turned away, facing the opposite direction, and sighed. "I can't help it sometimes, Albus." He fisted his hand against his mouth, "He reminds me so much of James."  
  
Dumbledore expelled another heart-heavy sigh, turning towards a cabinet full of tiny glittering contraption, flicking a few with his long fingers. "Can you not forgive the follies of your previous foes? Harry, I believe, still does not have the complete underlying understanding of the reasons why you hated his father so deeply." He reached out a hand and stroked a small silver teapot, which then giggled naïvely and blushed. He smiled at this, turning back to Snape. "Although, he does seem to share the same compassion you have for James in hating the young Mister Malfoy…"  
  
"Oh please, don't even bring up that awful git," Snape spat crossly, shifting in his chair, curling a long leg underneath him.  
  
Dumbledore smiled, the usual twinkling taking its place in his eyes once more. Walking over to Snape's chair, he placed warm hands on his shoulders reassuringly. "You are here to provide support for your students, the same way I am here to provide support for you." He squeezed his shoulders slightly, and pulled up a chair next to him. Snape ignored him, keeping his gazed fixated on the wall hangings on the other side of the room. "But I can not, and will not stand, for this type of behavior," he said sternly. "I believe Mister Longbottom is having enough problems in your class with handling the proper proportions in the correct order, and doesn't need his 'Evil Potions Master' barking at him constantly." Dumbledore stood and journeyed over to the wine cabinet, wrapping his long fingers around the neck of a bottle of dark liquor. Pouring a small glass, he walked back and handed it gingerly to Snape. "You remember, of course, the boggart incident two years ago in Remus Lupin's class, I believe."  
  
Snape looked up from the swirling liquid to glance at Dumbledore. " 'Boggart incident'?" he repeated apprehensively.  
  
Dumbledore gawked somewhat, his eyes amused. "Oh, you haven't?" He intertwined his fingers in front of him, placing him thoughtfully in his lap, "Well, then, we'll save that encounter for another time."  
  
Snape made to interrupt, but Dumbledore raised a hand for silence and continued. "The point remains, Severus, that your actions were not accountable for today, and therefore I expect to see some improvement. If there is none, we will be having another 'discussion' very soon."  
  
Snape took a swig of the liquor and swallowed, looking back at him, "It seems you have forgotten Miss Granger's behavior. Does that not count for anything?" he rebutted.  
  
Dumbledore took his seat next to him again and reclined, "Personally, Severus, I agree with her point of view. Although, I do not wish you to rot in hell, (Snape snorted doubtfully) she does present a supportable point." He looked him in the face; "Therefore, I will permit for some type of punishment to be put into effect."  
  
Snape could only try and suppress a gleeful smirk, but Dumbledore cut smoothly into his thoughts; "But no points will be subtracted from Gryffindor."  
  
Snape opened his mouth to retort, but Dumbledore raised a hand for silence. "And nothing too gruesome, Severus. I believe the worst should be several detentions. And several refers to about three or four, not twelve."  
  
Snape 'hmph'ed and settled deeper into his chair, sipping miserably from his liquor.  
  
Dumbledore smiled all knowingly, realizing anything he said would only cause the younger man to fall into a more dismal mood. When Snape drown his glass and placed it on the arm of the chair, crossing his arms, Dumbledore took it and placed it on his desk. "Do try to cheer up, Severus. No one likes a spoilsport. And you should be especially happy," he smiled, "there have been no 'reunions' lately, and you should hold yourself in high spirits for that alone."  
  
Snape snorted, and stood to leave. Reaching the door, he turned around slightly, "I imagine you're not planning on telling me what happened during the 'boggart incident', are you?"  
  
Dumbledore smirked and turned back to the window. "All in good time, Severus, in good time."  
  
Snape grabbed the handle of the door, "I suspect that means never."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Ramblings continued: I would like to thank EVERYONE who reviewed, and would like to acknowledge two in particular…  
  
Cats rule Dogsdrool: Thank you for finding my mistake on Neville's name! My first reviewer with constructive criticism!  
  
J: I hope this chapter cleaned up the "lack of Snape" in previous chapters. I would have to agree, but seeing that it was only the first chapter, you have to cut me a little slack. As for "Shit" and "Ass", this is rated PG13, and appropriately in my opinion, and if you dislike the use of these words, then that's your problem. If you go into the real world, most people use these words in daily life. Since Hermione is a muggle- born, I expect she uses words that other wizards don't use on a daily basis. But thank you for your review, and I respect your opinions. You're the first one with opinions for me, and I have to respect you for that  
  
The next chapter will be out…. sometime in the next month. PLEASE REVIEW! I NEED IT TO LIVE! I know, I'm insane.  
  
Reviewing really doesn't take that much time! ::puppy dog eyes::  
  
And just to tell everyone, burdensomeness is a real word; it's in my thesaurus!  
  
PS- Thank you, Redone, for pointing out my mistakes. This may sound like an excuse, but my Speck Check in word is possessed and tells me things have grammatical errors when they don't and doesn't tell me when they do, and so I usually ignore it now. But thank you for taking time to pick out my errors, I really appreciate it. If you find anymore, please inform me! I tried to read over my other chapters to make sure there aren't anymore, but I'm stupid and I probably missed some.  
  
And once again, may I remind everyone REVIEW! 


	4. A Healer, of Sorts

Author's Ramblings: Hey everyone! Sorry this one took so long… and I know this chapter is probably pretty boring, but you'll all be happy to know that the next chapter will be nice and angst filled with lots of fun stuff… the plot is actually going to start. Yay for me! Anyway, I hope this chapter doesn't bore you to death… just wanted to throw in the promised angst, and if it sucks, oh well. I'm sorry, I haven't really had any plot bunny attacks and so this story is coming slowly. I've been really depressed too, so writing isn't helping much. Anyway enough about me. Read on! And remember, review!  
  
Chapter 3: A Healer of Sorts  
  
Lupin didn't even lift his eyes from the papers he was grading at the sound of the staff room door creaking open. He almost smiled at the sound of heavy, tiresome footsteps. "Good evening, Severus."  
  
"Why don't you grade papers in your own quarters, Lupin?" grumbled Snape in return as he plopped himself into a chair close to the fire. Burying his face in his hands, he sighed with fatigue and tried to let his muscles relax. Finding it nearly impossible, he sighed again, throwing himself into the cushioned back of the chair, rubbing his eyes with one hand.  
  
Lupin smiled, pouring two cups of steaming black coffee from a pot sitting on the counter near the staff refrigerator. "Tough class today?" he asked, walking over and placing a cup on the side table next to Snape's chair, taking his own chair to the side of Snape's.  
  
'Hmph' was the only reply as Snape reached over and grabbed the handle of the mug, staring into its murky depths. Seeing only his dismal reflection on the surface of the deep onyx liquid, he sneered and looked back into the cackling fire. "Did you put anything in this?" he asked, wanting to know if Lupin had placed in any sugars to help 'lighten his mood'.  
  
"No," he answered quietly, placing the pile of papers back in his lap and picking up his quill, and then grabbing his mug as well, "I know you like it black."  
  
Staring back into his cup, he sipped cautiously, and then muttered an almost inaudible 'thank you'.  
  
Lupin looked up from his papers to the morbid individual next to him, who was, at the moment, staring expressionlessly into the fire. He could see it flickering against Snape's eyes, along with deep pain and anger.  
  
Drinking from his own mug, he set it down, wondering how to start conversation. "Sickle for your thoughts, Severus?"  
  
When he didn't respond, Lupin made to press again, but Snape sighed, sounding somewhat depressed. "They don't know what it's like. It's not fair to judge someone without knowing what type of life they lead."  
  
Lupin's brow furrowed in confusion. "Severus?"  
  
Snape stood angrily all of the sudden, throwing his mug into the fire with rage. "Do they know what it's like to look back on your existence and cringe with loathing? No! Do THEY understand the pain and torture I've undergone? NO! How dare they judge me! HOW DARE THEY!"  
  
He paced, and then began to lean against the brick above the hearth, leaning his forehead against his arm, breathing rapidly.  
  
Lupin placed his papers on the table next to his chair and walked over to his stressed colleague, placing a warm hand on a trembling shoulder. "Severus, relax. Just calm down," he said soothingly, hoping the Potion's Master had temporarily forgotten where his wand was hidden inside his robes.  
  
Throwing a troubled, anxious look at Lupin, Snape took another deep breath and threw himself into his chair again. His elbows settled on his knees, his hands linked and he settled his chin upon them. "It's just not fair," he mumbled into his hands.  
  
Lupin pulled his chair up along side Snape and sat down, and hand on Snape's back for support. "Would you like to tell me about it?"  
  
Snape rubbed his eyes tiredly. "What do you see when you look into the eyes of one of your students?" he asked jadedly.  
  
Lupin's brow furrowed. His students? What about his students? "I suppose I see eager, happy students, and the occasional depressed, morbid individual. But on the whole I suppose they are in high spirits. Why?"  
  
Snape looked straight ahead, eyes off in an alternate universe. "Because I don't need to look into their eyes to realize how unhappy they are."  
  
Lupin faltered. Whatever he was expecting, this certainly wasn't it. "Severus-"  
  
But Snape didn't seem to hear him, since he continued speaking. "I can feel the depression and hatred radiating away from their bodies as they walk into my dungeon. I can see how utterly hopeless they feel in my class when they stare at the potions chalkboard with perplexity written perfectly on their faces. And I see them leap with complete elation as they exit at the end of the lesson."  
  
He rubbed his face with his hands again, clearly tired and weary from another day of teaching. "I understand that I'm not the most pleasant person to be around, but it's still hard knowing your students dread the day they have to sit for a period in your class. And I'm trying, trying to become the person I should have been years ago, but some habits are evidently more easily erased than others."  
  
Lupin tried to say something comforting, but found he had trouble finding the right words. "You can't please everyone, Severus-"  
  
"Yes but it's somewhat unsettling when you realize everyone looks at you with eyes of loathing every time you're near them. It's almost as if you're the most disgusting thing they've every set eyes on." Lupin flinched, hearing Snape call himself a 'thing', not even considering himself human. He had begun to pace again, marking grooves into the carpet where his boots had been treading a pattern for several minutes now.  
  
Pausing in front of the hearth, he placed a hand on his forehead, "Sometimes my mind actually believes them, and wonders why Albus is the only person who is willing to place trust in me."  
  
Lupin rose to stand next to him. "I trust you," he said quietly.  
  
Snape quirked his head suddenly to look at him with troubled eyes. A smile then spread across his face, and the effort put in to the one expression scared even Lupin.  
  
"Thank you, Remus."  
  
"You're quite welcome," Lupin replied, tending to his papers once more. "Would you like to tell me about it? I'm going to be here a while as it is, grading papers. It would be nice to have some company," he said, marking a red 87 on one paper.  
  
"Thank you, but no thank you," Snape answered, "I think I'll return to the dungeons. I believe the Weasley twins have managed to leave yet another mess for me to tend to."  
  
Remus chuckled, his laugh echoing warmly in his throat. "All right, I suppose I'll leave you alone. Have a good night."  
  
"You too."  
  
Snape squeezed himself through the door of the staff room and slyly made his way down his cold dungeon quarters. Greeting the dark atmosphere of room with open arms, he planned to fall ungracefully into bed, undecided on whether he was awake enough to change first or not.  
  
"Euh… Professor?"  
  
Starting at the sound of another human voice (something was definitely not expecting at this time of night, especially around his dungeons), he quickly spun on his heel to find Hermione standing some paces behind him.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked, realizing after the words had escaped that it was slightly undignified of him to phrase it in such a manner.  
  
Hermione's cheeks colored, and Snape realized he had embarrassed her in an already-embarrassing situation. "I… euh… followed you for a while… I called out to you, but you didn't hear me… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude… I'll leave now if you like-"  
  
"No, no, it's all right," he recovered, figuring he was too caught up in his own thoughts to hear things around him. "What can I do for you Ms. Granger?"  
  
Hermione shifted her feet, her hands clasping nervously behind her back. "Well, I didn't mean to interrupt you… I just..." she seemed highly uncomfortable, "I-I wanted to apologize." Her last statement was hurried. "I'm sorry for the outburst in class today, and I wanted to explain that I don't know what came over me, but I'm truly sorry for everything I said, especially since none of it was true. I hope that you will find it somewhere in your heart to except my apology?" She was truly troubled now. What if he didn't except her apology? He'd probably continue to hate her existence until she died; or he died, whichever came first.  
  
His emotions caused him to want to gawk at her, but the rational portion of his brain pushed him back to reality and helped him hold a straight face. "Your apology is accepted," his mouth formed the words.  
  
It was now her turn to gawk. "You mean… you're not angry with me?"  
  
Snape suppressed a smirk aimed toward the confused Gryffindor. "No, Ms. Granger, I'm not angry with you. I, personally, agree with some of the things you said today, but we won't discuss it."  
  
Hermione became flustered again. "Professor, the things I said were uncalled for-"  
  
"Oh, the things you said did hold some importance, but it doesn't hold top priority at the present moment. You will, however, serve out three detentions for me."  
  
Hermione looked as if she was bout to hug him, but refrained from doing so, much to Snape's delight. "Thank you, Professor."  
  
Snape suddenly smiled. "Don't fret over it, Ms. Granger. Now off to bed with you, it's late, and Honeydukes awaits your arrival tomorrow."  
  
She smiled back and hurried off, a certain cheerful bounce resuming itself in her stride.  
  
Only three detentions? He was becoming soft.  
  
Yet something in the fact hat she apologized made him sympathize with her.  
  
After all, it was the first apology he'd received in many, many years.  
  
*  
  
"Now I want you to listen to me very carefully, for I will only give you your instructions once."  
  
Hermione fidgeted on her stool, trying to relax, but finding it hard under the stern glare of her Potions Master. It was Thursday evening, almost a week from her 'apology', and he had summoned her to his dungeons to help clean out cauldrons, clean the tabletops, and do other types of dirty work for him. She found that she really didn't want to clean up other people's messes, but it was better than doing other more energy consuming tasks.  
  
After receiving instructions on certain spells to help her use the magic cleaner (Merlin's Every Magical Mishap Remover) and rules to help her to refrain from exploding the classroom to bits, Snape threw himself into his chair to grade papers. Hermione noticed the tired way his voice echoed around the walls, but didn't really give it a second thought. Grabbing her wand, the sac of magic cleaner powder, and a rag, she began to work a particularly prominent stain out of the wooden tabletop. Sprinkling some powder on the wood and muttering a spell, she began to scrub the table with her rag, throwing her whole arm and shoulder into it (Snape explained that it had been invented with an activation spell so that small muggles and house elves could touch or ingest in without being harmed if they happened upon it).  
  
Working her way around all the classroom desks, she noticed how all the tabletops suddenly gleamed and were several shades lighter in color than they were when she had come in. Snape remained at his desk, sliding his pen smoothly over the tops of the papers, marking grades. Yet something about him; either his posture or this facial expression; was giving her the idea that he was very miserable (well, more so than usual). His face was cast in shadow, his shoulders hunched, his over all appearance radiating bitterness.  
  
"Is something wrong, Professor?"  
  
Snape looked up from his paper sharply, his eyes holding bewilderment. "I beg your pardon?" he breathed.  
  
She gave him a confused look. "I asked if you were alright. You seem melancholy. Are you ok?"  
  
He looked on at her with utter disorientation on his face. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, turning back to his papers.  
  
Hermione shrugged and went back to her tasks. If he wasn't up to conversation, she certainly wasn't going to try her luck at starting any. Though it startled her to find his witty remarks were nowhere to be found this evening, and that he was very quiet overall.  
  
He hadn't really been himself lately in class; he acted depressed and sat at his desk with his head in his hands, as if he was constantly fatigued. Even though he was evil and crude and egotistical and overall the most hated teacher in class, she still felt sympathy towards him when she saw him suffering silently as the other students passed notes and whispered about how much they wished he would die.  
  
She suddenly started as a cry of pain sounded from the front of the room, and a gasp issued from her own mouth as she watched him crumple in his chair, hunched over, his arms pressed to his chest, schoolwork papers fluttering messily to the floor. Forgetting about her rag, she dropped it on the table and ran around the desk and chair and rushed to the front of the room.  
  
"Professor?! Professor!" she cried, swiveling his chair to the side to face her. He only sat before her, paying her no mind, taking deep breaths and slowly trying to calm himself. But the pain was unbearable. Feeling the hot pain searing up and down his arm caused his mind to think of nothing else. God, please, he begged, just let me die already…  
  
"Professor, answer me! Tell me what's wrong!" Seeing that he couldn't communicate very easily, she took his face into her hands, soothing his temples. Finally catching what little attention he had left, she tried to soothe away his fears. She felt somewhat awkward; she had hated him only a week ago, yet she somehow felt obligated to assist him. "It's alright. Everything will be alright," she cooed, "Just show me what is causing you pain."  
  
Tears now spilling furiously down his face, he thrust out his arm to her, pulling back the sleeve of his robe. She suppressed an intake of breath as looked down upon the Dark Mark tattooed into his skin, the rims of the dark black ink glowing an emerald green. Running cool fingers along his inner arm, she brushed some mangled hair out of his face and smiled. "It's ok. I'll make it go away, just relax."  
  
Brandishing her wand and cradling it in one hand, his arm in the other, she started whispering spells and enchantments to help loosen up his stressed muscles and help calm his tense nerves. He could hear her singing the words in fluent Latin, her tongue rolling over each syllable with ease. It was like music; music to overpower the steady pounding in his ears.  
  
He took a deep breath and exhaled, realizing the pain was slowly leaving his body. He closed his eyes, tranquility finally claiming him under her careful and soft touches. He finally leaned back in his chair, shaking slightly, anxious but without pain.  
  
"Are you alright now, Professor? Does anything still ache?" she asked, standing.  
  
He looked up at her from his chair, "Where did you learn to heal like that?" he asked hoarsely, his throat tight.  
  
She signed and averted her gaze. "It's amazing what you can learn from simply reading a book."  
  
He seemed angry, but had trouble placing expressions on his face because he was very weak. "Stupid girl, you don't simply learn advanced healing spells from a book! They take years to master!" he managed to say.  
  
"So maybe I've been reading into if for years. It's not like I watch television or play video games in my spare time."  
  
"Do you know other types of healing as well, then?"  
  
"Yes," she replied, and seeing that he was in no immediate danger, picked up her rag again. "I've read into all types of healing magic, especially since it was something I could do easily without much practice and I would probably use it later in life."  
  
He suddenly looked apprehensive. "Are you a Healer?"  
  
She smiled. "Not yet. Maybe someday."  
  
He smiled as he watched her clean. She was so committed… "I think that's good enough for today, Ms. Granger. You may go. I will see you tomorrow, same time and place. All right?"  
  
She looked up from the table, somewhat confused. "But it's only 8:30. Are you sure I've served a long enough detention?"  
  
"Yes, yes, it's fine." He rose, somewhat shakily, to his feet, and walked in front of his desk, leaning on it for support. "You are free to go."  
  
"Are you sure you're all right, professor? Does it usually cause that much pain when you're summoned?"  
  
Damn her. She'd found the most uncomfortable subject for him. "No," he answered, then caught himself. Why was he telling her anything? He didn't even tell Albus some things he wished not to share, and here he found himself wanting to share things with this girl that he hadn't even spoken out loud to anyone. Yet somewhere in the back of his mind he found that he trusted her; somehow she would understand, and wouldn't judge him. "Usually it isn't too painful. But I believe Voldemort has found he's not the only one I report to."  
  
"You mean he's found out that you're working for Dumbledore?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So are you going to attend the meeting?"  
  
"No."  
  
Hermione grew concerned. "But you could be killed!"  
  
He couldn't meet her eyes. "I'll be killed either way. At least this way it will buy me some time."  
  
"Professor-"  
  
"Your detention is finished, Ms. Granger. You may leave now." His cold, stern, hollow voice had resumed, and Hermione knew better than to not obey. Obviously he didn't want any more questions.  
  
She picked up her things and threw her bag over her shoulder, and turned towards the door. "Would you like me to fetch the Headmaster?" she asked, her hand on the door.  
  
"No," he replied, "I'll see to it myself. Thank you."  
  
She heaved open the door. "Good night, Professor," she said quietly, "I hope you feel better."  
  
He watched her exit, keeping his eyes on the door, even though it had closed. That was twice she'd done something nice for him in only a week's time.  
  
Maybe not all the Gryffindors were bad after all.  
  
  
  
Sucky? Needs improvement? Tell me what you think! Leave a review! Please?  
  
Next chapter will have all the afore-mentioned pain and torture, I promise… you just have to slide into these things! Hehe…  
  
Thanks for reading! And remember! REVIEW!  
  
~Shorty Trenchrat  
  
P.S.- And just to do some last minute explaining…  
  
I plan on writing this story so that it will be romance… but to please most, there will be no 'intercourse', so to speak, because even I find that somewhat repulsive… not that it would be a problem if they were married or even dating, but neither of these will occur either. I'm going to base this story on building trust, among other things, not just kissing and smooching and 'getting it on' in the bedroom. But this will be romance, just not heavy-duty romance. I hope that's all right with everyone. I'll try and smush in as many sweet and cute moments as I can. Good, people?  
  
Thank you for all your encouraging reviews. You don't know how much you guys make me smile. Yes, even the negative ones. I've hit 70 reviews, which is WAY more than I ever expected. Thank you so much, and please, keep telling me what you think! I can't change things if I don't know they're a problem.  
  
I know this is a little late, considering I already posted the chapter, but it's ok if I edit once and a while, right?  
  
Catsrule Dogsdrool- one of my, if not my most, faithful reviewer/reader! Thank you so much for your compliments! And no, I'm not going to kill him off… I love him too! He's too important to the plot anyway… no use if he's dead!  
  
Thank you all again for everything, and I'll continue writing! 


	5. Part 1: Watch Over Him

Hey everyone!  
  
I know I haven't posted in a while, but this is only Part One of Chapter 4 because I began typing, thinking I would get to some major plot, and I've only started, and look how long it is. Therefore, I broke it into two parts so no one would hurt me. ::smiles meekly:: I know, bad me. I'll have to get Snape to give me a detention…  
  
Anyway, this chapter may make little or no sense, but from here on, things are going to move pretty fast. And the last part of this chapter may seem like it has nothing to do with anything, but I wanted to give some foreshadowing for events to come…  
  
Blah blah blah. You people know the drill. Read, like, dislike, review, bitch, moan, spit at me, whatever. Just leave a review.  
  
Toots.  
  
  
  
Chapter 4 Part 1  
  
"What do you mean he was summoned?"  
  
Hermione gave Ron a piercing look as Harry smirked, moving his knight to capture one of Ron's pawns. "What do you think, Ron?" she said agitatedly.  
  
His brow furrowed, "How should I know?" he said, standing by his wounded pride.  
  
He rested his chin in his palm as he moved a bishop to take Harry's once- victorious knight, and Harry threw himself into the back of his chair with a frustrated sigh. "Because there was a meeting last night, you git!"  
  
Ron looked up with a cute frown on his face, obviously not following on the same thought patterns. "Huh?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and looked back at Harry. "ANYWAY," she said loudly, and Ron 'hmph'ed' and looked back at the chessboard, murmuring obscenities into his hand. She leaned back in the rouge armchair as the fire threw shadows across her face, "He was in a lot of pain. I'd never seen anything like it before. He seemed panicked, like he didn't know what was happening," she explained.  
  
Harry's face contorted with confusion. "He would know what it feels like, since he's been a death eater since the years when he was at Hogwarts. That's at least twenty years," Harry said, once again occupied with the chess game he was sorely loosing.  
  
Hermione averted her gaze to the night sky blanketing the forest outside the window as snow began to fall again. "Geez, it's snowing again," she muttered. Pulling her blanket tighter around her, she looked back at their game. "I'm still concerned about him, though," she said.  
  
Harry looked up at her while Ron surveyed the board, looking (or hoping) for another move. "Who, Snape?" he asked, and Hermione blushed. "Why, Herm? He gave you detention! You should be happy to get away from him!"  
  
Hermione's face colored again, and she turned away, not wanting Harry to see (Ron was too preoccupied with the chess board to even notice that she and Harry were deep in a meaningful conversation). "He's a human being, Harry. If you were hurting I'd worry about you, too."  
  
Harry looked up, giving her a searching look. "Hermione, just a week ago you exploded at him, telling him you'd rather he rot in hell-"  
  
"Yes and now I realize I was wrong," she cut him off, not wanting to hear her own cruel words repeated. "I didn't realize how he must carry a very large burden."  
  
Ron smirked. "How do you know he's not really working for the Dark Lord and not double crossing Dumbledore?" he asked, finally understanding what they were talking about. "I mean, it's not like he acts very friendly towards anyone, and he still attends all the meetings-"  
  
"He's not, Ron," Hermione said, not bothering to look at him, "I know he seems to be acting, but I know it's not a joke. He's not working for Voldemort anymore." She knew he wasn't pleasant to most people, but the pain she had seen in his eyes the night before told her that it wasn't what he wanted; but for him, he had no way of freeing himself.  
  
Realizing Hermione was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, Harry took charge and changed the subject before Ron grew to be too out of hand. "So," he said, moving his pawn to take one of Ron's bishops. "What's happening this weekend, Herm? You're going to Hogsmeade with us, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes, I suppose," she answered, trying to hide a shiver that ran up her spine. She hoped neither boy would notice, knowing how the both of them were very protective of her; like she was a small child. She resented it, but knew it was only out of love that they badgered her every time she coughed or sneezed.  
  
"You alright, Herm?"  
  
She looked back and smiled. "Yes, I'm fine," she lied, "just a little chilly, is all."  
  
"Check," Harry muttered to Ron, then focused back on Hermione, "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yup."  
  
Which was also a lie. She had been very concerned in the past few hours. She had never seen so much anger and frustration in one person, especially when it was aimed at themselves. She felt for him, though she often caught herself, wondering. Why did she care? He'd only been an evil selfish man up until a week ago, and suddenly, it was as if those things had never happened. He seemed vulnerable to her. Like… a child.  
  
"I must be going," she said, standing as the blanket fell to the floor. "I have detention again in a little bit."  
  
Harry looked up as Ron moved a piece, studying the detached girl. "You sure you're ok, Hermione? You want one of us to walk you there?" She seemed she was spacing in and out of reality, having trouble concentrating on conversation or on a person. He noticed in class she wasn't paying attention, which really scared him. The day Hermione Granger didn't pay attention in class, anyone was bound to get a little frightened.  
  
"No, I'm ok. I'll see you guys later." And with that, she slipped out of the portrait hole.  
  
Harry turned back to the chessboard as Ron reclined in his chair. "I don't see why she's so strung on him. It's not like he's obsessively nice to her or anything." Harry swept his queen smoothly along the glass board, and she possessively hammered a small pawn. "I mean, besides Neville, she's the most picked on in class."  
  
"Yes, I know," Harry replied as Ron moved him into check again. "She obviously sees something in him that we don't."  
  
Ron sniggered. "Apparently."  
  
Harry rested his cheek in his palm thoughtfully. "I just wish she would tell us what."  
  
*  
  
Hermione walked slowly towards the dungeons, her heart heavy. It was apparent that Ron and Harry wouldn't understand. They just didn't see the eye-to-eye when it came to Snape; they hadn't seen his face that night. The emotion… she couldn't even begin to describe the types of hurt she had seen…  
  
Approaching the wooden doors with apprehension, she grabbed the ancient handle and pulled, and the door scrapped noisily against the floor. Recoiling as the disturbing din scratched her ears, she peered into the dark classroom, and slid inside.  
  
It was very chilly; the usual green fire that burned brightly in the corner hearth was extinguished, and the common torches didn't burn. The atmosphere was cold and gray; only a small amount of light from the setting sun filtered through the stained-glass window above Snape's desk at the front of the room. It cast an eerie glare over the bookshelf full of potion vials; the green, blue, and red containers gleamed unwelcomingly and the raw ingredients shimmered warningly in the wooden barrels in the corner.  
  
She walked cautiously towards the front of the room. She was about to call out to see if Snape was in the dungeons when a small whimper echoed from one corner of the room.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
Panic suddenly overtaking her, Hermione quickened her pace, trying to follow the sound. She only heard it once, though, and had trouble placing the soul from which it had been produced. "Professor? Where are you? Answer me!"  
  
She heard the ruffling of cloth; something was moving. Hearing it off to the right, she quickly spun on her heel and began looking under desks. If he was being summoned again…  
  
"Hermione?" a hoarse, tired, raw voice echoed, sounding strained.  
  
Her anxiety returned. "Where are you? Tell me, I'll help you-"  
  
"Go back to your common room," he said weakly, "Detention has been cancelled."  
  
Anger settled on her face. Damn the stubborn man. "I'm not leaving until I find you. So either you can tell me, or I'll keep searching." She peered into the nook between the bookshelf and the wall, thinking he was hiding from her on purpose.  
  
He cursed, sending Hermione another message. She was close. "Please, Professor," she begged, "tell me where I can find you. I want to help you- "  
  
She turned past the corner of his sturdy oak desk, and found him huddled underneath it, curled away from her. His cloak covered his face; his body trembled in pain as he buried his head in his arms. "Oh dear…"  
  
She crouched down before him, falling to her knees. Pushing his hair out of his face as she had the night before, she tried to read his features. Stained with fearful tears, his eyes were afraid; she'd never seen such panic in anyone's face before. They were no longer menacing; they were almost pleading.  
  
"You didn't go to Dumbledore, did you?" she asked calmly. When he didn't even try to place a disapproving look upon his face, her alarm was renewed. He simply shook his head quickly no, fresh tears beginning to flow. Taking his face into her hands, she felt a shiver run through her arms and down her back. One message it sent her was of the immense torture he felt, of the sting of his mistakes; she could feel it searing off of him and running through her palm and fingertips. Another message was terror; he was deathly afraid of what was happening to him. He had no idea what was in store for him, and he apparently didn't want to die. She felt a pang of sorrow for him, and felt a need to help him.  
  
The last feeling she felt was discomfort. He was obviously just as embarrassed as she was experiencing this kind of contact. He was a professor, she was a student; nothing could change that. Yet still; Poppy had never been practiced at advanced healing. This girl; this young, intelligent, quiet child was able to do greater things than Hogwarts' hired nurse.  
  
"It's alright," she cooed, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as she tried to comfort him once more. "Calm down."  
  
She muttered Latin healing spells again as he offered his arm to her, but the discomfort didn't recede; it had advanced ten times in intensity since the last night, and Snape tried to keep from breaking down right in front of her. She wouldn't know him to be weak; he was just as strong as anyone. He wouldn't let her think that he was pathetic.  
  
Frowning slightly because her spells refused to work, she racked her mind for others she had learned. She knew advanced healing spells, but those involved using soul energy; she could be in bed for days if anything went wrong. But, still…  
  
Sighing and making up her mind, she grabbed his hand. "Come out from under there," she said calmly, "I can't help you if you're hiding underneath your desk."  
  
He grudgingly complied, and she pulled him next to her. Sliding tiredly to her side, he felt faintly light-headed; his head throbbed. He leaned into the crook of her neck, feeling as if he was going to loose consciousness, his stomach growing uneasy. He caught her off guard, but she didn't mind, knowing for this particular spell the Healer needed a great deal of physical contact with the patient because the Healer would be transferring some of their energy into the patient, and this would soothe the ache.  
  
Snape felt embarrassed, truly stripped of all dignity; but he didn't care. He couldn't think. It didn't matter anymore.  
  
Directing her energy at his body and focusing her gaze on his face, she slowly began to drain the positive energy from her body into him through his hands, which she had firmly clasped in her own, their palms touching. She felt him immediately relax his muscles, and felt him collapse completely onto her. His breathing slowed, became less labored, and his eyes closed. Within an hour, he was completely subdued and serene, and Hermione expected, asleep.  
  
Grabbing her wand and muttering a spell to lighten his weight, she awkwardly cradled him against her and carried him towards the door she suspected lead to his private rooms. She felt guilty going into his quarters, but didn't know what else to do with him. She hoped he hadn't locked the door with any advanced spells, but after muttering a low 'Alohomora' the door lock slid open and she pushed the door on its hinges.  
  
The room was dark, and after quietly whispering 'lumos' she lowered him gently onto his quilt, and grabbing a blanket off to the side on top of a small trunk, covered his shivering form. She felt she had done her part, and taking one last look at him, hurried off to find the Headmaster.  
  
*  
  
Hermione jogged down the corridor, finding nausea settling uneasily into her stomach. Slowing down in exhaustion and weakness, she raised a hand to lean against the wall to catch her breath. She peered around the corner of the wall, and found the stone gargoyle only a few feet away. She walked slowly over to it, and then found she didn't know the password.  
  
"Oh come on, don't play this game with me," she muttered at it. "I've had a long day, and a crisis has arisen concerning one of the professors and I desperately need to speak with the headmaster."  
  
It didn't budge.  
  
She grunted and searched her brain for every type of Honeydukes sweet she could come up with. After listing off a good chunk that she new, she finally came up with 'Caramel Cats' and the gargoyle stepped aside, and she bolted up the gliding staircase.  
  
She rapped on the door. "Headmaster?" she called, "Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
She heard footsteps padding on soft carpet, and the door slowly slid open. "Yes, childing? Come in, please; I was just about to have some hot chocolate…" Professor Dumbledore offered.  
  
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "I'm awfully sorry, Professor Dumbledore, but I'm afraid I'll have to pass up that offer. Professor Snape has fallen ill, and I found him under his desk while attending my detention," she explained, and watched as Dumbledore's eyes became gradually more and more concerned. Dumbledore made a move to speak, but she cut him off before he could start to tell her to go back to her common room. "Please, Professor, he's passive right now, but I felt the need to inform you; I believe he was summoned again. He's in his private rooms; I didn't want to leave him alone in his classroom." She lowered her chin as her cheeks colored. She figured she would be scolded; a student never entered a professor's chambers without permission. She would probably be given even more detentions on top of what she already had.  
  
To her complete surprise, however, Dumbledore smiled. "Thank you, Hermione," he said warmly, "for taking care of him in my absence. Pray tell, did this occur during any other time that you have been in his presence?" he asked quietly.  
  
Hermione colored again. Snape would probably be furious at her for discharging such personal information, but the headmaster had every right to know. "Yes," she said sheepishly, "last night. He told me that he would see you, and, being a student, didn't feel it necessary or politically correct to escort him to your office door."  
  
Dumbledore gave a heart-heavy sigh. "He's a masterful potions brewer, but a very stubborn man." He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. "Thank you for informing me, Hermione. I'll be sure to go and see how his condition stands."  
  
"I hope he will be ok. Should I go back to the common room?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, "I believe that that is an excellent idea."  
  
Hermione fumbled with her fingers, "Euh… Professor?"  
  
Dumbledore looked back from his descent down the staircase, "Yes?"  
  
"Tell him… t-tell him I hope he feels better, and that I hope it doesn't h- happen again," she rushed.  
  
Dumbledore smiled in response. "Thank you for caring, Hermione." She blushed again. "I know even though he doesn't show it most of the time, he greatly appreciates it."  
  
He swept off towards the dungeons, and she blinked once; he had gone. Hermione hurried back to the common room, for a long night of restless tossing and little, or no, sleep.  
  
*  
  
Hermione slouched at the breakfast table that Saturday morning, and played with her crisp toast. She had completely forgotten about spreading jam or marmalade on the flaky bread, and was more interested in watching it crumble into miniscule pieces than actually eating it.  
  
Harry stared at her after taking a huge bite of his biscuit. "Rough night, Hermione?" he said through a mouthful of butter and crumbs.  
  
"Hmm," she answered, closing her eyes. Snape hadn't appeared at the high table, and she figured he was still recovering from the ordeal of the night before. Hermione had then slumped to the table with a damp spirit, and Ron and Harry had refrained from noticing for most of the meal, much to her pleasure.  
  
Ron reached across the table and wrapped his fingers expertly around the rim of the saltshaker. "How was detention?" he asked.  
  
Hermione closed her eyes and cradled her head on her arm. "All right," she lied.  
  
Harry paused in his eating frenzy. "Are you coming down with something?"  
  
"No, I'm ok. Just had a rough night, is all."  
  
Harry and Ron looked up as the usual storm of owls fluttered into the Great Hall. Not expecting any mail, Hermione closed her eyes and propped her head in the crook of her arm. She was startled awake again, however, when an owl landed in her bowl of cereal. Surprised at even receiving any mail, she sat up quickly and untied the red ribbon, noting the Hogwarts seal on the front. Quickly sliding her finger underneath the flap, she hastily opened the letter. Inside, she found the untidy scrawl of the Headmaster.  
  
1 Dear Ms. Granger-  
  
I would like to have a meeting with you concerning your last detention. It has been brought to my attention that Professor Snape is currently in a state of illness, and I would like to speak with you to discuss arrangements. Please see me in my office after you finish with your meal. Thank you.  
  
  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
Headmaster  
  
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
  
  
  
Hermione smirked. She looked up to find Harry and Ron staring at her with half-expectant gazes. "What?"  
  
"What's it say?" asked Ron.  
  
She threw it to him. "I have to see Dumbledore about my last detention."  
  
"Last detention?" repeated Ron.  
  
Harry leaned forward on the table on his elbows. "Was he summoned again?" he asked, a serious expression on his face.  
  
Hermione looked down at her place, eyeing the few crumbs left upon the shiny surface. "Yes," she replied quietly.  
  
Ron frowned as he read over the letter. "So… what does that have to do with your last detention?"  
  
Harry sighed and buried his head in his hands, and Hermione shot him a disbelieving glare. "Ron, what are we going to do with you?"  
  
"Is he all right at least?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione rubbed her neck with her hand. "I have no idea. He was in a poor state when I left yesterday." She pushed back from the table and stood, brushing some odd crumbs off of her robes here and there. "I'm going to go talk to Dumbledore. Meet me in the common room later?"  
  
Harry nodded, and Ron stared back at her with a befuddled expression.  
  
*  
  
Hermione walked slowly towards Dumbledore's office, noticing the rising feeling of déjà vu in her chest. She was glad the password hadn't been changed since the last time she had been there, and knocked nervously on the door.  
  
She heard the doorknob click, and Dumbledore's warm face appeared before her. "Ah, Ms. Granger," he said with a smile, "Thank you for coming on such notice. Was your meal enjoyable?"  
  
"Yes, very much so, thank you," she lied.  
  
"Come in, come in," he shooed her inside, and she took a seat timidly in front of his desk.  
  
Dumbledore swept over to a boiling kettle on a shelf in his office. "I just made a pot of tea, would you like a mug?" he asked jovially.  
  
She blushed, pushing some stray brown hair behind her ear. "No, thank you, Professor," she lied. She was so nervous, what if she spilled on herself and made a complete fool of herself?  
  
Dumbledore seemed to sense this falsehood, because he ignored her answer and poured her a mug anyway. Setting it down before her, she colored but picked it up tentatively, and found herself enjoying the way her hands warmed upon contact.  
  
He sat in his chair before her, sipping from his cup. "I spoke with Professor Snape yesterday."  
  
Hermione looked up from her cup with wide-eyes. "Was he ok?" she asked, suddenly conscious of the way her voice quaked.  
  
He smiled. "Yes, he was fine. He was a little shaken, but otherwise in good health. I want to congratulate you on your use of cool logic and skills in a time of need. That shows bravery and level-headedness."  
  
"Thank you, Professor."  
  
Dumbledore turned his wise eyes upon her. "Which brings me to another topic. Professor Snape has informed me that you performed very advanced magic in that classroom… would you like to tell me about it?"  
  
Hermione finished her sip of tea quickly. "W-Why?" she asked, afraid of punishment.  
  
He smiled. "You are not in trouble, Ms. Granger… I would simply like to know what types of magic you used and where you learned such magic that even Poppy Pomphrey could not perform."  
  
She found her face blushing again. "It was in a book I was reading once… something about advanced magic healing. I found it very intriguing… it was something that I could master fairly easily without much practice. When Harry received bruises or cuts or scrapes from Quidditch, I was able to heal them with a touch, and without a wand. Harry never understood it, but he backed up my studies from that day on. Once Ron fell and broke his arm, and I was able to heal it without him going to the nurse. He was afraid of her asking too many questions."  
  
She was then afraid she had said too much, but Dumbledore simply smiled, nodding for her to continue. He sat with his fingers intertwined in his lap, a thoughtful expression settled on his face.  
  
"For months I would heal small injuries for close friends… like the Weasley twins, who constantly received minor maladies from Quidditch as well. I never thought twice about it. It was just something that I did. It wasn't something I practiced; it was just a part of me, like it had been there all along, I had just needed to acknowledge its existence and learn how to use it."  
  
Dumbledore sipped his tea again, "And is this the type of magic you used to help Professor Snape the past two previous nights?"  
  
Hermione hung her head. "Yes."  
  
To her surprise, Dumbledore smiled again. "I'm very proud you, Ms. Granger. A very small percent of the wizarding population are born with the gift of healing."  
  
"You think it's a gift?" she asked.  
  
"Oh, yes, I think it is a very wonderful gift. What's more, you have a big heart, and you use your gift to help others, which makes it not only your gift, but also a gift to other people as well. I think Professor Snape would agree with me as well.  
  
"Which leads me to the next order of business." Dumbledore stood and began to pace. "I believe Professor Snape told you that you had to fulfill three detentions for him?" Hermione nodded. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, your behavior the last two nights has made up for your deed and you are free to go, and you don't have to sit through another detention."  
  
Hermione looked up at him again. "Really?"  
  
Dumbledore turned to her again. "However, I have a job for you."  
  
Hermione's gaze became serious again. "What would you like me to do?" she asked hesitantly.  
  
Dumbledore sat again. "Professor Snape has informed me that he is in need of some ingredients to restock the potions' department." He took his mug again, "To retrieve these ingredients, he needs to go to Hogsmeade to the Apothecary, which is the only store close enough that carries these items. I would usually allow him to go alone, but since the previous night's happenings, I am slightly reluctant."  
  
"So you want me to go with him, to keep an eye on him?" she asked.  
  
Dumbledore looked up, amusement and knowledge present in his eyes. "You are very wise, Ms. Granger." She became embarrassed again. "Yes, that is exactly what I would like you to do. I really don't want to ruin your chance at a day at Hogsmeade, but Poppy has to stay on school grounds to tend to students, and incase of emergency, she is the hired Hogwarts nurse, so she can't leave. I need someone there who will watch over and take care of him, and you are the only witch in Hogwarts that can fulfill these requirements."  
  
"You're trusting me with a Professor's life?" she asked skeptically.  
  
"Yes, I trust you completely. Not all students are as reliable and caring as you are. This is a strong quality that the Sorting Hat looks for while deciding where to place them during the ceremony. These qualities are most prominent among Gryfindors. You happen to be one of them, and you also possess a keen power of healing. Therefore, you are the only one I can send with him."  
  
Hermione didn't know whether to take this as a compliment or a curse. But before she could ponder too long, Dumbledore's voice cracked into her thoughts. "After he has made the necessary purchases, you are free to join your friends and have a normal visit."  
  
Hermione stared into her hands. She had never taken anyone under her care before; she wouldn't know how to act. What if she did something wrong, and only made his condition worse?  
  
"You don't have to do this Hermione, this is only a proposition. If you feel that it would put too much pressure upon you and you don't feel that you would be able to handle it, then you are free to decline the offer."  
  
"No," she answered before she could stop herself, "I'll do it. I think I can handle it."  
  
Dumbledore grinned. "Thank you very much, Hermione. You don't know how much this means to me, and if he knew, Professor Snape. Which reminds me," he crossed his hands upon his desk, "Professor Snape has no knowledge of this agreement. He thinks that you are simply doing this as your last detention. If he knew, I daresay he would fight me to the death, thinking he didn't need anyone's assistance. Please do not tell him of this arrangement."  
  
"Oh, no, I won't, I promise," she answered.  
  
"Good, good." He finished his mug, and a small house elf arrived to take it off to the kitchens. "I think that Hogsmeade opens to Hogwarts students in two hours. Please be ready to go fifteen minutes prior to that time, and meet Professor Snape in his classroom. He will escort you to Hogsmeade, most likely by apparition."  
  
"All right." Hermione rose to leave. "Is there anything else, Professor?"  
  
He smiled and stood to escort her to the door of his office, "No, I believe that is all there is to discuss. Thank you again, Hermione. It's a truly noble thing you are doing. And it also interests me that you didn't ask for anything in return for your services."  
  
"Oh, no, Professor, that would be too selfish of me. I'm only doing a service to the school, and that deserves no reward. The only reward I will receive is the assurance that Professor Snape has a safe journey." She walked towards the door, and Dumbledore opened it before her, and she left.  
  
"Hermione Granger," he muttered to himself after she had left, "A truly amazing child."  
  
*  
  
  
  
"Come now, Ms. Granger, don't waste my time. I want to make this trip as short as possible."  
  
Hermione jogged after the sweeping black robes of her Potions Master, careful to make as little noise as possible. He seemed irritable since the night before, but she knew better than to question him. She followed him down several corridors, until they reached the front doors. He led her outside, and turned to her at the bottom of the steps. "We'll have to travel to the perimeter of the school to be able to apparate. Are you up for a walk?"  
  
"Yes, sir," she answered mindfully.  
  
The sun was unusually bright, especially since Professor Trelawny had predicted heavy rain all day. She followed him to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, close to Hagrid's hut. Hagrid was outside tending to his vegetable patch when he saw her and gave her a friendly wave. She waved back, but Snape gave her a deadly glare, and she recoiled. He marched up to the trail they had walked their first year for a detention. "Follow me closely," he ordered, "I will not lie to you; the forest is dangerous."  
  
With that, he turned and began to make his way through the forest.  
  
Though it was complete daylight outside, very little sun made it through the canopy of leaves towering above them. Hermione found the shadows that hid behind the rocks and dead foliage and the deafening silence that coated them both foreboding, but said nothing of it. Snape would only sneer and tell her how childish she was being; he wouldn't care. She had the distinct feeling that they were being followed, yet she usually was always slightly paranoid in social situations.  
  
She jumped several times when she heard rustling behind her, but was disappointed (or relieved) to find that nothing was there. Figuring it was her mind playing tricks on her, she continued without saying a word, walking in the cold footsteps of the mute man before her.  
  
She could see streaks of light highlighting Snape's hair as he walked quickly down the dirt path. He didn't say anything to her, and she wondered it he had forgotten her presence. They walked for what seemed like hours but Hermione suspected it was only about half an hour that had passed. She reminded herself of the secret passageway Harry had used previous years, thinking of how much easier it would have been to use that instead…  
  
Snape came to a halt in front of her. "We've come to a particularly difficult part of the path. Be careful."  
  
She nodded and followed quietly. Snape held back undergrowth, unruly thorns and clinging bushes out of her way, and she found herself grateful but embarrassed. Several times, though, Hermione had to help dislodge angry twigs from his cloak. Sometimes he'd even had to help her over large logs that had fallen over the path.  
  
"How much farther, Professor?"  
  
Snape paused. "We should be halfway there."  
  
Only halfway? her mind echoed. Her shoulders automatically slumped and she sighed. That tunnel that ran underneath the school soon seemed so much more appealing than this route…  
  
Suddenly she felt as if the back of her robes was being yanked from behind. She yelped with a combination of fear and surprise and clutched at the back of Snape's cloak, clinging close to him. He spun around, alarmed. "What is it?" he asked urgently.  
  
She still hung on to his cloak, "Something grabbed me, Professor," she answered timidly.  
  
Snape looked down the path behind her as she looked up at him expectantly. His eyes quickly darkened. "Centaurs," he muttered with distaste.  
  
Hermione turned her head back, her eyes falling on the sleek body of a horse, and the handsome face of a human. Another centaur stood next to him, eyeing her with fascination. Both had sleek horse-like bodies of shimmering chestnut and cream-colored fur, and amply built upper human bodies. Hermione found she suddenly had the urge to reach out and stroke the gleaming fur, but refrained. Snape didn't' seem to trust them, so neither did she.  
  
"Ronan," Snape said curtly; she expected he was addressing the chestnut in front of her. "Goliath," he nodded to the other.  
  
"Severus Snape," Ronan answered.  
  
Snape sniggered with disgust. "Was it really necessary to startle my student like that? She doesn't like being here as it is."  
  
1.1 That's an understatement, she thought to herself, suppressing a smirk.  
  
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave as soon as possible, Severus," Ronan said importantly.  
  
Snape's lips curled in repugnance. "Why is that? You think you can start ordering me around?"  
  
"No," Goliath answered for him, "It's just that theirs is a pure evil prowling here in the woods. We are unsure of what evil this is," he explained. "It has slain one of our brethren before today's sunrise. We awoke to find a corpse beside us."  
  
Snape faltered. "Who?" he asked.  
  
Ronan looked down at his hooves, "Samoan."  
  
"I'm sorry," said Snape. "Didn't she just give birth to a young foal about a month ago?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Firenze also tells us he has seen them lurking in the shadows… most of the centaurs are staying in large groups in the forest to ensure safety in numbers… but we had to come and make sure you were informed. How far are you from your destination?" asked Goliath.  
  
"I believe we are only halfway to the other side of the forest," Snape answered.  
  
Goliath's eyes became concerned. "You won't make it to the other side," he whispered.  
  
"We'll transport you," Ronan said quickly, "It will be harder for them to catch you while you ride upon our backs."  
  
"Ronan," Goliath said warningly.  
  
He looked back at him angrily. "We may not be great friends with the humans, but their blood runs with ours, and it is cruel to leave any animal in the woods with this type of evil stalks them. They are more vulnerable than we are." Snape seemed to suppress a snort at this; apparently he didn't consider himself vulnerable.  
  
"Here," Ronan bent down upon his front knees, "We will aid you."  
  
Hermione held back; she'd never ridden a horse before, never mind a centaur.  
  
"Go on, Hermione," Snape gave her a small push, "Would you like help getting on?"  
  
She nodded numbly, taking tentative steps closer, Snape's warm hand upon her shoulder.  
  
He lifted her with ease up onto Ronan, and she sat dully on his powerful back. She could feel his muscles flexing as he stood. "You might want to hold on," the centaur said, and reached back to her hands, wrapping them around his waist. "Here, like this."  
  
She linked her hands around his waist, holding on for dear life. Oh, the things she got herself into…  
  
Goliath seemed much less happy to have a human as cargo. "Hurry up," he said, leaning down, "We haven't got all day. Our tribe needs us as well, you're not our only priority here."  
  
Snape walked swiftly over to him and hoisted himself up, settling on his back as Hermione had. "Alright," said Ronan, "Let's go."  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
It was a bumpy ride to the edge of the forest, and Hermione hung on for dear life for fear of flying off. Though the ride was smooth and Ronan's even strides beneath her relaxing, she was beyond nervous. Snape seemed to be having a harder time with Goliath, however, because it seemed he was trying to buck Snape off, not caring if a random tree or branch hit him.  
  
Hermione was very relieved when then came to a grand clearing, rolling hills and valleys dipping and rising before her eyes. Ronan stopped, and lowered himself to let her slip off of him. "Thank you very much," she said politely.  
  
"You're very welcome," Ronan answered with a smile, "The pleasure was all mine."  
  
Goliath and Snape came some time after, and Goliath let Snape climb off, or more like threw him. Goliath sneered at Snape, and Snape answered with an equally evil glare back. "Thank you, Goliath," he said threw gritted teeth.  
  
Goliath snorted, crossing his arms and raising his nose above him. He turned quickly and galloped off into the brush again.  
  
Ronan sighed. "You'll have to forgive him, he's slightly biased against humans. He hasn't had very many good past experiences with them."  
  
"I can tell," snorted Snape.  
  
He smiled at Hermione. "Well, I must be going back. I want to make sure my tribe is still intact. Have a safe journey."  
  
"You too," she answered.  
  
And with that, he trotted back into the depths of the forest, the sound of his hooves beating against the earth retreating swiftly.  
  
Snape watched after him, and turned back to her once he had gone. "Well, now that we're beyond Hogwarts perimeters, we can Apparate off here." He extended his hand towards her. "Take my hand, and we'll be off."  
  
She rested her hand in his palm and he pulled her closer to him, "Hold on tight, I don't want to lose you now."  
  
As his fingers clasped around her hand and she felt a tingle run through her, her world suddenly dulled and became various shades of gray and melted, her sight fading into darkness…  
  
  
  
There, the first installment. I know it seems like ANOTHER boring going- nowhere chapter, but just… give me some time. I PROMISE the next part will have EVERYTING you people have been waiting for. I absolutely promise. If it doesn't, you can give me detention with Snape and I'll help Hagrid tend to his rabid beasts :ahem: at his hut. And I'll take this story off. Really, I will. Just, leave a review. Please? Pretty Please?  
  
Thanks for reading!  
  
~Shorty 


	6. Part 2: Failure

Hi everybody!  Thanks for sticking with me, sorry for taking so long to get this chapter finished… I had so much school stuff to worry about with finals… but school's final out!  I'm a sophomore everyone!  Aren't you proud of me?

This chapter… I don't even know what to say about this chapter.  I just hope it clears up some things, and opens up a path for some new things.  Makes a lot of sense, doesn't it?

Anyway I wasn't really happy with how this came out, I might revise it.  But until then, I'll let you decide.  

Thanks for the reviews guys!  You are the best!  (Really!)

Chapter 4 Part 2

Hermione felt herself land on something hard beneath her… ground.

The warmth began to spread through her limbs and the breath filtered back into her lungs, refreshing her blood with lost oxygen.  She sighed in a deep breath, still feeling Snape's strong hand around hers, clasping it tightly.  Her veins pumped happily in her brain again, and she opened her eyes.

They were standing underneath an umbrella at a local ice cream parlour.  Students didn't seem to notice that the evil Potions Master stood close by, his hand gripped to that of a Gryffindor.  Consciously Snape let go of her hand, and she took notice to the absence of his grasp on her skin… her hand fell to her side.  She suddenly felt nauseous…  

She collapsed into a plastic armchair next to the table they stood under, her head in her hands.  Snape looked down at her, "Are you feeling ill, Ms. Granger?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.  It somewhat startled her, but the pounding in her head and the shaking in her hands made her focus on more important things.  

"I-I just f-feel a little queasy, Professor," she forced out, "I just need to s-sit for a moment…"

He knelt before her.  "Do you need anything?  I suspected you might have some difficultly travelling in such a manner… was that the first time you ever travelled by apparating?" he asked softly.  He rested his hands on the arms of her chair.

"Y-yes…" she muttered, swallowing hard.

"Do you want something to drink?  Something small to eat?" he asked gingerly.

"No," she answered strongly; she was supposed to be the one watching him, not vice versa; "I'm fine."

Snape quirked an eyebrow.

"Really," she added hastily, "I'll be ok.  I'm just… not sure I can walk properly…"

He stood up and helped her to her feet.  "All right, Ms. Granger.  But if you feel light-headed, you have to tell me.  We'll stop for a rest every so often."

Hermione stood uneasily, but Snape took her hand again.  She quickly felt stronger, and weakly walked by his side, down the street of Hogsmeade.  

It wasn't an easy task; students filed in from every store, some window-shopped; the place was bustling with excited children, all wearing different-colored winter cloaks.  Hermione became anxiously aware of the stares she was receiving from the students around her.  She lowered her head and tried to shadow her face from the crowd, allowing her hair to hang down to hide her features.  She compulsively wrapped her cloak tighter around her and felt her cheeks go red.  What was she doing here?

She stumbled periodically, but Snape seemed to be in a lighter mood than that morning.  He helped her patiently up when she tripped, and wrapped his arm around her when they came to particularly congested areas of the village and steered her through.  She spotted several students that she was familiar with; Pavarti and Lavender where cooing over a small shop owned by a plump witch who sold elaborate dresses and clothing; Draco, Goyle and Crabbe were huddling in front of the Quidditch store as she passed, and Harry and Ron were gawking beside Zonko's Joke Shop, focused keenly on some items that sat on the store's window display.  

Snape pulled her towards a small hole-in-the-wall shop.  She looked up towards the sign; Adenine's Apothecary was written on it in peeling paint.  

"Here we are," Snape whispered, and opened the door for her.  

She walked carefully in before him, swiping a brown lock of hair behind her ear uneasily as he smiled, heading towards the front counter. 

Hermione was immediately hit with the strong smell of formaldehyde; it was a small, cramped store, and many shelves lined the walls, teeming with small jars with measuring cups beside them, and bags ready for the customer.  Jars of substances she didn't even want to imagine sat collecting dust behind the register counter, behind a smiley woman wearing thick-rimmed glasses.  

"Ah!  Severus Snape, how good it is to see you around Hogsmeade again!  It's been such a long time since I saw you last," said the woman jovially, smiling wide as wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes.

Snape looked as if he was about to smile, but caught himself in time.  "Good afternoon, Michelle.  I've come to restock my potions department… I don't think you'll have any trouble with this list?" He handed her a small piece of parchment.

The woman swooped her thick glasses from atop her head and perched them on the bridge of her nose, looking down stiffly at the paper.  She read over the ingredients carefully, her lips mouthing the words even though she didn't make a sound.  "We have almost everything in stock… just the milkwood; we ran out of this morning… a haughty man came in and bought out our whole stock… but we'll be getting some in soon.  I'll owl you as soon as we have some."

"Very well," Snape answered politely.  "That's fine.  And, Michelle… give my student part of the list to carry out… perhaps measuring over at the powder barrels?"

Michelle looked down with wild eyes as if she hadn't noticed Hermione standing there, slightly behind Snape the whole time.  "Oh!  Taking our detentions into Hogsmeade, now, are we?" she smiled, then bent down behind the counter and pulled out some paper bags.  "Here," she said, handing them to Hermione, "Over there, behind the shelf of bezoars…yes, over there… there are barrels from which you can measure the exact amount of ingredients you wish to purchase.  Here's the list your Professor has given me of which ingredients he desires to purchase."  She ripped the parchment in two, handing Hermione the bottom half.  "Just use the measuring scoops at the side of the bins.  They'll measure the right amount for you magically, they've been charmed.  You just have to tell them how much you want to have, and they'll light up when you've gotten the right amount." She smiled again, "All right?"

Hermione nodded and walked off to the barrels, manoeuvring in between shelves and cats and things crawling along the floor.  She could hear Snape and Michelle conversing quietly as Michelle passed into the several different doors behind her time and time again, producing a small bag of supplies that Snape had asked for.  Hermione measured and poured her list quietly; completely unaware that Snape had been watching her carefully the entire time.

Hermione could hear the quiet chatter of her Professor and the cheery Michelle as she packed her bags with numerous items. Beetle and spider body parts, eyes, and intestines of numerous animals… though slightly appalling, she didn't have any trouble finding the items on the list in the store.  Once or twice her scoop slipped from her hand, and she was able to catch a glimpse of Snape, standing with his back to her, leaning leisurely on the counter.  

Somehow she'd never noticed how his cloak seemed to hang off of him; how he was actually very slim underneath the foreboding black clothing.  His life must take a toll on his body, she imagined.  His hair was still the color of ravens, without white or grey speckling any strands.  Though he looked tired, he looked somewhat younger, like he hadn't seen anything but the walls of Hogwarts for ages.  Though he wouldn't admit it, he was enjoying seeing the town.  

After filling about ten to twelve paper bags full of odd supplements, some of which she had never heard of before, she carried them carefully back to the register, where a pile of jars and vials was steadily growing larger.  Snape pushed himself off of the counter as Michelle came out of the storage room for the last time bearing a large, oddly shaped container. 

 "Are you sure that's all you need, Severus?" she asked, reading over the list one more time.  Snape nodded curtly, and she then turned to Hermione, a small smile upon her face.  "Did you get the ingredients I gave you, darling?"  

Hermione almost grimaced at being called darling, but hid it and handed over her half of the list with her bags.  Michelle took them and weighed them, the prices appearing on the register magically as she read over the list.  She magicked all the vials, pots, containers, and bags into one large brown, crinkled paper bag, and set it back on the counter.  "That comes to 21 knuts, 8 sickles and 7 galleons." 

Snape withdrew a small leather pouch from his cloak, counted out the money and handed it to her.  She recounted it, her fake nails clicking annoyingly on the coins.  "There you are," she said, lifting the heavy bag off and handing it to him, "and do come back and visit me every so often, Severus," she called as they began to leave. 

"I'll try," Snape answered, and pushed open the door, exiting back into the crowded streets of Hogsmeade.  Hermione followed obediently after, happy to finally be leaving the stuffy, small, animal-infested Apothecary.

They walked some ways away from the store, and Snape turned around to address her.  "Well, my job here is done," he said, "Dumbledore informed me that when I had made my purchases, you were free to go and join your friends."

Hermione nodded in agreement.  "Yes," she answered, "that's what he told me as well."  She suddenly felt very nervous.  Why would she be nervous?  What was this feeling?  

It was the same feeling she had felt in the woods when the centaurs had been following them.  A sixth sense, so to speak; a blinding sense of forbidding.  Someone was watching them.  A shudder ran through her limbs.  But it was different; she was overtaken by an urge to run, to hide, to get away; anywhere, so she could feel safe again. 

Snape shifted his bag, "Then I'll be on my way back to Hogwarts.  Have a good afternoon, Ms. Granger."

"You too," she found herself saying.  Something was wrong; something was terribly out of place.  

Something fluttered in the corner of her eye; she quickly flicked her head to the side, catching a glimpse of a long concealing black cloak and a bright white mask.  

She couldn't mistake the shine of the colourless mask over the man's face; a skull design had fitted the person's appearance, hiding his true identity.  A sense of uneasiness floated over her as she watched the person walk through the crowd, and a shiver ran up her spine anxiously.  Something tickled in her mind, drawing her attention to it; _Hermione_, it echoed, _Hermione_…

Her eyes quickly reverted back to the retreating back of Snape.  _Death-Eater_… her mind was whispering again… _danger_…

 She found herself calling him back, even though her mind was still unsure of what her subconscious was telling her.

"Uh, Professor…"

She ran up to him just as he was turning around to face her and swiftly grabbed the sleeve of his cloak.  He began to cry out in surprise but she quickly 'shh'ed him, and pulled him by his cuff into an alleyway off to the side in between two stores.  They stumbled through the mold and dirt and garbage littering the pathway, stepping over boxes and junk.  She dragged him down the damp stone trail until she thought they were far enough away from the street.  

"Ms. Granger, what are you-"

"Shhh!"

She quickly placed a concealment charm on the two of them to ensure people passing by on the street wouldn't see them, hiding them especially from people wearing skull masks as well.  Snape looked down at her with confusion as she peered around the corner of the brick wall of the alleyway.

She now noticed how the bright masks shone out from the crowd, now that she was looking for them.  They were everywhere; around corners, swerving in and out of the crowds of people, simply sitting somewhere at a café or shop, surveying the throng as the people passed.  She felt panic settle in her as she remembered that Snape was with her.  Her heart fluttered with nervousness; what if they noticed him there?  She wasn't strong enough to hold off that many full-grown powerful wizards by herself.  If Snape was hurt, captured or worse, she would be letting Dumbledore down.  No one would ever trust her again.

Her heart pounding against her ribs, her mind running through a list of what ifs, she turned back to Snape.  It was stupid to come here, she thought pointedly to herself.  Dumbledore should have thought of this.  He should have known this could happen…

"Are you going to explain yourself now, Ms. Granger?" Snape said, irritated, arms crossed.  His eyes settled on her, making her shift uncomfortably.  She could tell by the fire in his eyes that he was very irate; but also that he was fearful as well.

She stood up a little taller, mustering up the little courage she had left.  "There are Death-Eaters surrounding this whole village," she started in a whisper, her eyes never leaving his face.  She noticed his look of anger faded suddenly and his face quickly lost color.  She could tell he was trying to hide it, but he was becoming steadily anxious and uneasy.  "They're everywhere… I know that you are hiding from them.  If you're spotted, I have no idea what will happen… I can't risk that."

"Ms. Granger, it is not your duty to protect-"

"If I hadn't spotted them when I did, you definitely wouldn't have, and you'd be in a real mess right now.  He was right behind us," she cut him off before he could give her a speech, pointing a finger in the direction of the street.  "I'm surprised he didn't see you."  She dropped her shoulders a little at the frightened look upon his face.  He seemed so helpless now; frightened even.  "Dumbledore should have known…" she muttered to herself, but Snape heard her.

"Dumbledore has no idea," he answered, peering out of the alleyway for the first time to have a look around, "he doesn't even know that they're after me.  He doesn't need to know.  It will only make him fuss more than he already does," Snape spat angrily.

Hermione's eyes grew wide, "What do you mean he has no idea?" she whispered crossly, "What did you tell him when he went to talk to you last night?"

Snape turned upon her forebodingly, "A lie, of course.  What, you thought I'd actually tell him a thing like that and have him sit around making sure I wouldn't be able to leave Hogwarts grounds?  The old bat would have me guarded by teachers left and right.  I'd be surprised if he let me even leave my own classroom if he knew."  He shook slightly, "So I twisted my story.  What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"But it could KILL you!"  Hermione didn't know how to react to that.  He was acting immaturely; that was something one of her fellow classmates would do.  "Why did you lie?" she asked, a tremor in her voice.  If Dumbledore didn't even know he was in danger, help would be so much harder to access in case of emergency.  "That's not the only reason you would lie to the Headmaster!"

"I'm not a child, Hermione!" he yelled furiously, "I can handle myself, especially in the face of Voldemort!  I've done it for years, and if you think just because I've gotten older in years it means I'm less capable of handling any situation that involves protecting myself or my students, then you are sorely mistaken!"

"Shhhh!" she said, covering his mouth briefing with her hand to silence his yells.  "He trusted you!"

Snape averted his gaze, and she could tell that she had hit a nerve with saying that to him.  "Yes, and I've trusted many people that have betrayed me in the past by doing much worse things… it's for his own good anyway."

Hermione didn't know how to react to that statement.  Watching another Death-Eater pass through the shadows of another area of Hogsmeade, her mind was brought back to the task at hand.  "Whatever they're planning on doing, I think it's safe to say it isn't with the best of intentions.  We have to get the Hogwarts students out of here before they start a riot…"

"How do you propose we go about doing that, Ms. Granger?" Snape said sarcastically.  "You know as well as I that all the students arrived here by train, and that they will all have to be herded back onto it to leave… it's too far, and it will take too much time.  The Death-Eaters will know that we're onto them by that point."  He drummed his fingers on his lips thoughtfully, "Besides, it's already left.  It leaves after everyone has gotten off at the beginning of the afternoon and returns at 6:00.  We can't wait that long."

Hermione's mind reverted back to Harry explaining the secret passage under Honeydukes.  "Passageway…"

"Excuse me?"

"The secret passage that leads to Hogwarts from the cellar of Honeydukes!  It would be quick enough to transport all the students back to the school!"  She looked up at him with excitement about her.  "It's bound to work!"

"Passageway?" Snape cocked an eyebrow.

Hermione sighed.  "You're just going to have to trust me."  Grabbing his hand once more, she tugged him down the street again, not caring to explain when she bumped into unsuspecting bystanders.   They, of course, wouldn't see anything, only feel the pressure; she and Snape were invisible to the untrained eye.   "We'll have to go to Honeydukes first and inform the shop owner."

She tugged him down the cobblestone path once more, making sure he was right behind her the whole time.  She just hoped that the concealment charm would last until they reached Honeydukes.

She ran up to the door, and ending the charm, pulled open the door.  Pulling Snape in along behind her, she heard the door close with a chime behind them and walked hurriedly up to the cashier.  She was dimly aware of Snape trailing close behind her. 

"Hello, dear, what can I get you today?" said the elderly man tending to the register.  He was thin and looked fragile, but had a warm smile beneath his whitened moustache.  

Snape placed nervous hands on the countertop before him.  "We request the use of the passageway underneath this establishment," he stated urgently.

The man gave Snape a searching look, his brows furrowed.  "Is this some type of joke?"

Snape paled.  "Don't play games with me, old man.  This is critical."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, looking from Snape to Hermione successively.  "There is no hidden passage under this building, at least, not to my knowledge."

Snape was quickly losing his patience and his temper.  "I'm telling you don't play games with me-"

"Professor, stop," Hermione said suddenly, placing a hand on his arm, "I think he's telling the truth."  She looked back to the man, "Do you think we could have a look around in the basement storage cellar for a moment?  I swear it won't take long."

The man studied her a moment, then called over his shoulder, "Francis!  Come and work the register!" 

A young man of only about 16 walked out of the back room, a broom in hand.  "You want me to actually ring up the purchases?" he asked apprehensively.

"Yes, yes," the man said hurriedly.  "Just make sure you don't mess up, or it will be out of your pay check."

The freckle-faced boy leaned the broom next to a shelf and took the man's place in front of the register.  The man turned and signalled for them to follow him, and took out his wand, unlocking a charm put on a large door behind him.  He creaked open the door, and hobbled down the rasping steps.  Snape and Hermione followed unquestioningly.

She coughed as she breathed in a thick cloud of dust.  The gloomily dark sky filtered murky light through a cellar window, casting light on the floor.  Hermione could see the dust clouds rise as they walked through the small room filled with shelves of candy and other condiments.  She realized with dread that she had no idea where the trapdoor was.

Feeling Snape's eyes staring into her, she dug deep into her mind, trying to remember what Harry had said about the door.  _You would never know it was there unless you're looking for it_, she remembered him saying.  _It's all the way in the far corner of the room, covered in a thick layer of dust_…

Her mind unsure, she walked swiftly to the end of the small room, behind a tall shelf of different chocolates.  She studied the floor, searching for any indentation that would mark a door, a knob, a handle; anything.  At this point, she began to panic; she was desperate.  

She paced the area, looking for any sign to prove she wasn't insane, painfully aware that Snape and the shopkeeper were watching impatiently behind her.  Her feet scuffed along the stone floor as she searched, but she found nothing.  Only a thick layer of dust was on the floor, no door, no handle; no nothing.

"Well?" asked Snape impatiently, his arms tightly crossed, a look of boredom upon his face.  "Have you found anything?"

She blushed ferociously.  Fool, her mind exclaimed, what are you doing?  "J-just give me a second," she answered back, pushing her hair embarrassedly behind her ear.  "I'm still looking, hold on."

She grabbed for her wand, pulling it swiftly out of her robes.  She felt her ears go red, her cheeks as well.  "_Revalius Totalius Concealiem_!"  Her wand spouted turquoise sparks that ran like electric circuits through the wooden floorboards of the cellar, revealing hidden compartments that the naked eye wouldn't see.  

Snape couldn't help but smile a little.  _Clever little witch,_ he thought slyly, watching her with fascination as she analysed the floorboards, her hair falling to hide her face.  

_Damn_, she thought angrily, realizing she had no way of finding anything in a small, cramped, dark room.  _They must have covered it up with a charm to counteract my spell…_

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said apologetically, starting towards him and the man, "I can't seem to find anything here."

The man behind Snape sighed with discontent.  "This has been a waste of my time.  I hope you two are happy."

Hermione dropped her head to her chest and felt herself growing crimson in embarrassment.  "I'm so sorry," she muttered self-consciously, "I just thought-"

"You thought what, little girl?" the storeowner spat angrily, "That you know this store better than I do?  Well, I bet you feel pretty stupid right about now, don't you?"

Hermione could feel tears prickling the back of her eyes.  _Not now, not in front of Snape…_

"That's enough," she heard Snape say loudly, "If that's all that can to be done, then let's get a move on, Ms. Granger."

She trailed resentfully after him, scuffling her feet on the ground.  The floor thudded with her heavy footstep.  _Thump, thump, thump_-

"Some time today, Ms. Granger."

_Thump-thump-thump_-

"We are sorry to inconvenience you," Snape was saying to the old man, "It won't happen again."

_Thump-thump-tat-tat_-

Hermione stopped slowly, listening suspiciously to her level footsteps.  The sound changed from one step to the next, and instead of a hearty thump against the wood she heard a small rasping sound, a small tap.  _Hollow?  _Swinging her hair behind her ear once more, she looked down, brushing her feet against the ground. The filth began to clear, little puffs of it circling her feet.  

"Come _on_, Ms. Granger, I'm very busy-"

She swooped low to the ground, squatting on the balls of her feet, not caring that her robes were dragging on the floor.  Swiping more of the dust around, she noticed the wood changed slightly in color from one area of the floor to another, and a small indentation imprinted itself ever so cleverly in between two planks.  Hermione grabbed at it determinedly and pulled, and a door moaned open on its hinges in front of her.  

Snape turned on his heel at the sound, his keen ears catching each of her movements.  "Have you found it, Hermione?" he asked hopefully.

She looked down into the dark depths of the cavern, the staleness of the air wafting from the open mouth of the hole causing her to wrinkle her nose.  "Yes, I think this is it."

The man paled and peered at her from behind the shelf, eyes wide.  "You've… y-you've found something?" he asked apprehensively.

Hermione hid a small smile, "Yes, it's a small opening, but it seems the pathway underneath is wider."

Snape had a hard time refraining from sweeping her into a hug.  The feeling somewhat startled him, but he pushed it far back in his mind and, in a few long strides, had made his way to her side again. "Whatever made you think of looking here?" he asked excitedly.  There may be hope…

"The difference in sound," she answered meekly, "it changed from solid to hollow-sounding when I was walking over it."

Snape hid a look of awe, "Very perceptive."

Hermione couldn't stifle a gasp of surprise as he complimented her.  

Snape stood and walked over to the shopkeeper, "We will need use of this passage to escort the Hogwarts student body out of Hogsmeade."  It wasn't a question.

_A command is more like it,_ Hermione thought to herself quietly.

"Yes, s-sir.  Anything is fine, sir," the man said nervously, still quite amazed that there was a passage underneath his store.  

Hermione got to her feet and looked up at Snape.  "We should go and collect the students," she reminded him.  

"Yes, you are correct," he answered, "Please leave this open for when we return," he added to the owner, the with a sweep of his robes, swept out of the room.

*

Hermione had to jog to keep up with Snape as he speedily walked through the streets once more.   Neither spoke so much as a word to each other as they sped through the street, until Hermione noticed she had no idea where they were heading, or whether or not he was planning in his mind what they were going to do to get everyone out.

She gathered her courage.  "Uh… Professor?"

"Not now, Ms. Granger."

Hermione could tell he was anxious, but wasn't sure if she should say anything; he might only become more infuriated.

"Please, Professor, slow down, I can't keep up-"

"Shut UP, stupid girl!"

Hermione hushed, dropping her head in shame as he sighed exasperatedly and continued on his path into nowhere.  His eyes were panicked, rushed, hurried; she still wasn't sure where he was heading, but she knew that wherever it was, it wasn't the time to ask about it.

She drew up her courage and decided to try one more time.  "Professor, please tell me where we're going," she said quickly so he couldn't interrupt, "maybe I can help you."

He kept walking like he hadn't heard her, but suddenly stopped and turned to her.  She couldn't place the emotions she saw on his face, and had trouble placing if she had even felt such feelings before.  She was startled because she was sure he had never displayed such emotions for anyone before, none the less one of his 'dudderhead' students.  She thought of simple words first; scared, worried, unsure, confused.  No words could describe the things she had actually seen.

"What's the matter?  Professor-" she started, seeing the lost expression on his face.  

He didn't make a move to speak, and his eyes unfocused far off in the distance behind her.  She was somewhat frightened to see him so unresponsive and reached out to touch his arm.  "Professor?" she asked quietly.

"I don't know what to do, Hermione," he whispered, and even over the din of the crowded Hogsmeade she still heard his weak voice.  "I don't know how to get all the students into one area, and I'm not even sure if it's possible at this point."

Hermione studied him a moment before her gaze fell to the ground.  She was sure he would have a plan of action; an answer to anything.  After all, he was Professor Snape, a Hogwarts teacher… he should know everything.  She expected him to be able to whip out his wand, say a few words, and have everything be solved, but obviously she was dreaming something incoherent.  Snape was a wizard, and though he was very intelligent and powerful, he was not God.  She felt foolish for thinking so, but still, in the back of her mind, the question still echoed; how where they going to do this?

She could hear Snape sigh and shift uncomfortably next to her.   Apparently he was no help.  There weren't many options; there was only one that her mind could process, and though she tried to think of others, the one kept popping up.  

"We'll just have to simply make an announcement, using a fake excuse to reason hauling off the students through Honeydukes.  But we won't say that out loud, we'll just have to tell them to meet outside of the shop.  I don't know off any spells that would limit the listeners of the message to a chosen group," she explained to Snape, who, at that moment, seemed to be off in some other world.  She touched his arm slightly, grasping hold of his attention.  "Do you know of any, Professor?" she asked innocently as he peered down at her with a look of vulnerability.  

"No, I don't either," he said quietly.  "Your plan will do."

She realized how he had no idea what he was doing and took charge.  "All right," she said, her mind in deep thought, "We'll have to go to a secluded area of the town to hide, and make the announcement through the town.  That way, everyone will hear and the Death Eaters won't know where it's coming from.  Then, when they've all made it to Honeydukes, we'll get Harry to take point and lead them back.  It's the only way that I can think of at the moment, unless you have any other better ideas?"

Snape nodded his head numbly no.

Hermione sighed, "Fine.  Lets go."

She found a secluded area between two stores and dragged him there by his sleeve.  He was unresponsive; Hermione almost thought catatonic.  It was most unlike him to act this way; she assumed because he was finally presented with a situation he didn't know how to respond to.

"Here's how it's going to work," she clarified as she brandished her wand, "I'm going to place a sonorus spell on you so you can tell them.  Yes, you'll have to do it as I'm just a student and you're a Professor; you can justify it when we get back to Hogwarts where I wouldn't be able to," she went on as he gave her a withered look.  "Besides," she added as an afterthought, "They'll listen to you better than the will me.  I'm not very popular, you already know."

Snape looked down at her blankly as she muttered to herself, preparing herself for her spell casting.  "Are you ready?" 

Snape took a deep breath, steadied himself, and nodded.

"_Sonorus!"_

"Students of Hogwarts," Snape began, and Hermione could see the crowd slowing down in pace as all the young girls and boys looked around for the source of the voice, their eyes and heads moving every which way.  "The transportation train that travels between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade has broken down due to mechanical difficulties.  All students will kindly gather in front of Honeydukes for further instruction."

"Finite Incantatem!" Hermione muttered, slipping her wand into the folds of her cloak.  "Now," she looked out into the streets, "we need to go meet them there."  

She hurried back to where they had just come.  Snape followed with a frown plastered on his face, giving death glares to students passing hurriedly by that had the audacity to look at him.  She noticed how his behaviour was so oddly unlike him, but said nothing.  She had just served four detentions… she didn't need another week.

When she reached the door, she found herself in front of a huge mass of black cloaks, each with a different color shimmer glittering on the left side of the cloak's front.  All the students were chatting nervously, anxiously awaiting instructions.  She'd expected Snape to walk up and start taking charge; to bark like a madman and start spilling out orders; but neither happened.  He stood at the edge of the mob, watching students as they passed.  

"Professor!  It's your turn to start directing traffic!" she cried over the noise.  

He jumped as she addressed him, and seemed to realize the scene before him.  Enraged, he began his habitual bellowing.  "QUIET!" he roared, and all mouths stopped, voices died in the throat of each owner, as each head snapped towards the overgrown bat in intimidating black robes.    

"Where is Harry Potter?" he asked angrily, a sneer curling around his mouth on every syllable.  Hermione looked to her side as a mop of unruly black hair zigzagged out of the mass.  

"I'm here, sir." 

Snape looked down upon the boy with repugnance, the smirk ever so prominent on his face. "You," he said, hovering a menacing finger an inch in front of his face as Harry's bright emerald eyes crossed trying to follow it, "and your friend-" his head snapped up to the thunderous group as his eyes searched.  "Weasley!"

"Which one?" three voices sounded.

Snape gave an edgy sigh and tapped his metal boots irately on the cobblestone floor of the street.  "The youngest, you morons!"  Snape's body practically convulsed with fury.  "Ronald!  Get up here this instant!"

Ron's red mane appeared about everyone else's head as it bobbed hurriedly over to the fuming Potion's master.  "Yes, I'm here as well," he said through a mouth full of sugar worms, quickly swallowing the candy he was chewing in a trembling gulp.  He shoved the torn-open bags into the deep pockets of his cloak, brushing his nose on the sleeve of his cloak.  

Snape looked at the faces of the boys with something close to distaste.  "You two will lead this unruly group of your fellow classmates down through the secret passage underneath this establishment."  

The reaction from both young boys was exactly the same: both sets of eyes widened with disbelief as Hermione noticeably cowered away from their gazes, afraid of the wrath of the two hormonal teenagers.  Now that a professor knew of the passage, it would most certainly be off limits from now on.  She knew Ron would feel as if he'd lost a great asset, and the twins would be equally as unhappy.  Harry, on the other hand, didn't seem angry or displeased, but something along the lines of amazement.  Hopefully Snape wouldn't slip that she had been the one to inform him of its presence.  "You know-"

"Yes, and it is irrelevant," Snape cut off Ron before he could go any further.  "You have been given orders," he said as his eyes narrowed with malice, "Go!" 

Both boys started with surprise and turned quickly on their heels, rounding up the students like cattle.  "And for the love of Merlin don't waste time!"

"Hurry up, come along now!  Let's go!"  Harry took to crowding them all into the small shop, much to the owner's dismay as he sat despondently at the register, a frown on his face, chin in palm.  

Harry headed the front as Ron took up the back, the trail of boisterous students crowding into the small room.  Hermione stood by the doorway to keep watch, and Snape stood stiffly by the cellar door, counting heads to make sure that everyone was there.  His murderous eyes moved smoothly from one child to the next, keeping count with the mental calculator he had stored away.  As the last trailed into the cellar, the large mass still huddled in the small storage basement, a line still on the steps as the mob moved slowly in.  

_236_, he noted with disgust, _two missing_…

He realized he hadn't counted Hermione and mentally scolded himself for being careless.  _But where's the last one…_

 He climbed back up the staircase in a few quick even strides and strode out the front door, startling Hermione as he bound out the door.  "Professor," she said timidly, noting his flared nostrils and piercing eyes, what's going on-"

"There's one missing, Granger!  Who is it?" he snarled ferociously, grabbing her arms and shaking her like a rag doll.

"I-I don't know-"

"Well find him!" he retorted angrily, releasing her.  She fell to the floor, unable to keep her balance.  He was panicking again, she was sure; he suddenly felt as if it was his duty to get everyone out… alive, at least.  

She noticed someone trip and fall in her peripheral vision, and her eyes focused on the young boy.  "Neville!" she cried, getting to her feet, not bothering to wipe off her robes.  

Neville looked up nervously as his hands trembled above the contents that had fallen out of his small shopping bag.  Three books and a small bag of candy lay before him as she ran up to him, falling to her knees to help him pick up his things.  

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked him urgently, dusting off his cloak as he looked up at her with worried eyes.  

His hands were scrapped, and she quickly healed him abrasions as they trailed blood down his hands. "Hurry, Neville, all the students are leaving through Honeydukes-"

Neville made a small squeaking sound as Hermione noticed a tall shadow cast itself over the two of them.  

She followed his gaze up the lengths of Professor Snape's long cloak, to the un-humorous expression on his pale face.  

"Mr. Longbottom, I have NEVER met ANYONE so dim-witted and imprudent as you in my entire life!  Did you not hear my announcement?  Shall I add deafness to your list of character flaws?"

"I-I did, P…Professor, s-sir," Neville answered, his eyes never quick making it up to his face as he kept them plastered on his boots, afraid that if he looked at him Snape would turn him to stone.  

"Then why is it that you are still here and not with your other obnoxious classmates?" Snape answered haughtily.  If he was trying to scare Neville to the point that he urinated in his pants, he was doing a good job.  

"I'll take him there, Professor," Hermione said strongly, taking hold of Neville's upper arm as she helped him up, keeping it there to give him support in front of Snape.  She swooped down and took hold of the handles of his bag and handed it to him, "I'll show him where to go."  

Hermione took Neville's hand, "Come on," she whispered kindly, giving his hand a squeeze and a tug.  Neville followed numbly as Hermione directed him to the store.  Snape followed someone behind, watching her conduct carefully.  She seemed to care for the blundering idiot, even if he was clumsy and stupid.  

Hermione swiftly opened the door, hearing the chime, and directed Neville to the staircase.  "Just follow the line, I'm sure it's only at the bottom of the staircase."

"B-but what if I get lost?" mumbled Neville.

Hermione gave a small smile, "You won't get lost, Neville.  It's just right down the stair case," she answered reassuringly as she felt Snape's presence behind her.  "Don't worry, I'll be down in a minute."

She peered back at Snape, giving him a disapproving look.  Not only did he have to be rude to her, but to Neville as well.  Looking at his stern features, she noticed the sweat beading his forehead.  

She quickly noticed two wizards approaching the store thought the window, their faces right below the gold and red lettering written backwards on the glass store window.  Black foreboding robes swept around the closer man's feet, a skull mask in hand, and she didn't need to look twice to recognize the wizard's face.  "Malfoy!" she cried, "Professor look out!  Quick!" she pointed urgently over his shoulder.  

Turning, startled, towards the window, Snape's eyes grew wide.  Lucius Malfoy was only a few paces away from the door, his pale hollow face set in an expression of bitter rage.  

Snape's face drained of color.  "Go, now," growled Snape as he went towards the door.

"NO!" screamed Hermione, "you'll be killed!"

"GO!" he roared, a mixture of emotions on his face.  He hastily exited the store, slamming the door as he went.

Neville shivered next to her, "What is he doing?" 

Hermione stared at the closed for the door for some time, as if she wished he would come back unharmed right through it again, before she answered.  Her heart fell to her stomach, "He's going to try and protect the Hogwarts student body, but he's going to get himself killed."

Neville turned to her in shock, his eyes wide with fear and alarm, "He's going to _what_?"

She took one more glance at the door and out the window, but they had apparently moved somewhere else, because she didn't see anyone.  "Come on, let's go, now."

She tugged him down the stairs, muttering ferociously under her breath.  "Go," she commanded as she found Ron at the edge of the door, ready to close it as he settled himself on the stairs leading down, "and don't wait up for me."

"But Hermione, you can't go after him-" Neville tried to disprove, but Hermione quickly shushed him. 

"Hermione, where's Snape?" asked Ron quizzically, a frown on his face.

She turned to him solemnly, "He's gone off Ron, I have to go and find him.  Take Neville back with you, and make sure he doesn't get lost on his way."

Ron looked at her sadly, an expression of grim awareness on his face, "But what about you?  How will you get back?"

"Don't worry so much about me, Ron, get out of here!" and with that she shoved him and Neville down the stairs and slammed the door shut, trying to ignore Ron and Neville's helpless screams at her as she locked the door with a spell.  "I'll be back for the feast, don't worry!" she cried apologetically as they pounded their fists on the underside of the door, subsequently jogging back up the stairs.  

Reaching the last step, she bolted to the front door, peering from the side out the store's glass window.  

She saw the second wizard whisper something to Malfoy as Snape said something with a sneer upon his face.  Though she didn't hear Snape, she could hear Malfoy's cold heartless voice loud and clear.  "So you 

couldn't keep your hands off her, eh, you bastard?  Dismissed your duty to your Lord for a night of sick pleasure.  Please, tell me you at least enjoyed it."

_Oh God_, she thought as her stomach lurched uncontrollably, _he's talking about me…_

"You leave her out of this, Lucius.  This is between you and me; it doesn't include innocent young girls."

Hermione's heart thrashed against her chest as the second wizard made the first attack.  Malfoy was quick and took up the second.

Outside, she could see Snape quickly dodge a bright red-orange scorching discharge that emitted from the end of Malfoy's whippy wand as he swung it high over his head in an intricate pattern and bellowed again another spell, all in a matter of seconds.  Hermione saw Snape's face contort into alarm as he jumped back, the end of Malfoy's spell grabbing hold of his leg as Snape cried out, his robes already singed in several spots.  His back slammed against the store's window and Hermione shook as she took a frightened step back, screaming at the sudden motion. She watched the window shake with his impact, and then watched him crumple to the ground. 

"NO!"

Hermione searched for a spell that would impair Malfoy and the other wizard enough to tend to Snape, but in the heat of the moment she found her mind blank.  Her eyes watered as she watched Snape try to stand again.  He was hunched over in an awkward way and obviously in extreme pain, but she couldn't find a good enough charm to use.  _Oh, what was the one Lupin taught us year before last_, she thought intolerantly, _Suprema…_

Snape fell again, this time coughing hard enough to spill blood on the ground.

_Ocular Suprema…_ she grew frustrated and edgy as Snape clutched at his cloak, his hand gripping at the stone ground as rain clouds began to drop drizzle on their heads, casting shadows across each hungry, angry, and pain-filled face.  She couldn't help him.  She felt frustrated as she realized she'd broken her promise to Dumbledore.  _I've failed him_, she thought painfully.

She yanked the door open, her wand out and clutched in a shaky hand, "_Excruciatous Ocular Suprema!"_

Her spell hit directly on target; Malfoy clawed at his face with both hands as his mouth yelled out ever curse know to man, "My eyes!" he cried agonizingly, "my eyes!  They burn!"

The second wizard took a moment to react, but Hermione took that extra time to cast another spell as her mind reeled, "_Expelliarmus!"_

His wand flew into her awaiting open palm and she snapped it into two pieces swiftly, without giving it a second thought.  The wizard's eyes widened and fell to his tattered wand lying broken on the floor before her feet.  His face contorted with an evil anger and he dogged at her, knocking her to the ground as he tackled her small body.

She screamed as she heard a crunch and felt her whole backside explode in sharp spurts of pain.  She still held back the tears, promising herself that she wouldn't cry.  Even though Snape was buckled over and in extreme pain, she could still hear his voice reverberate through her head; _tears are for the pathetic, Granger!_ he would bark; _they aren't going to solve anything!_

But they began to fall unintentionally as the pain intensified tenfold.  Weakness slid over her as she felt her head slammed back against the pavement.

"GET OFF OF HER!"

She felt the pressure release her from its hold, the steady flow of hits to her upper body ceasing as a refreshing cool hand trailed down her cheek, "Hermione, open your eyes, wake up-"

Her eyes opened a crack and she saw only the raindrops falling on to her face.  She tried to focus on the dark shadowed face in front of her, but she was having trouble.  Her brain didn't need an optical image to know who it was, however.  "Professor…"

She heard Malfoy's harsh shrill laugh ring metallically in her ears.  "Well, would you look at this?  The sly snake is protecting his little fox!" he said scathingly, "How incredibly… nauseating!" he laughed evilly again.   

"You'll die, Malfoy-"

_"Agonis Tempestra!"_ Hermione shouted, knocking both Malfoy and his crony to the ground.  She propped herself up onto her elbows and managed to get onto her knees.  She stood and slipped her arm under Snape's, steadying him next to her as he leaned heavily onto her, his legs fully out of support.  "Come on, we're going back now." 

Snape looked back at her weakly, the pouring rain beating brutally on his pale bruised face.  But he didn't object.  

She turned him around to face the store again, but they didn't get very far before Snape hissed in pain as he tried to apply pressure to his injured leg.  She shifted his weight on her shoulders and pulled him again in her path to the door, "Come on, just a little further," she cooed reassuringly as he tried to stand again.  Hermione looked down and, judging by the way a sharp piece of bone jutted painfully through his skin, she suspected it was broken.  "Don't try to walk on it," she warned, "it will only make it worse."

"I'm fine, Hermione, I can take care of my-"

He suddenly shouted and fell to the ground, taking her with him as something pounded him from behind.

"Professor!  I-"

She tried to look back to see what had happened, but before she could something slammed the side of her face as she turned, throwing her brutally into darkness. 

Ok!  Here we are!  I final finished (which had nothing to do with a certain someone constantly reminding me to finish it…) and I'm happy you stayed long enough to finish!  Now will you do me the favor of reviewing?  It would mean worlds to me… and by the way, if you find any weird spellings of words, that would be my spell check being obnoxious.  Please don't hurt me!  

Any questions you may have that you want me to answer seriously should be sent to my email, it just is easier that way. 

Anyway, I jus hoped you liked it and are looking forward to the next chapter!

~Shorty

P.S.- Thanks to Ricky for beta-ing for me!  You're great!


	7. From Deep Black to Bright Blue

Hey everyone. I hope the last chapter cleared up all of the comments about Dumbledore allowing Snape into Hogsmeade, along with some other things… I've been receiving many comments about the Boggart incident, and how it isn't consistent with the Cannon. Technically, if you refer to the book with me :: whips out book and perches reading glasses on her nose:: there is nothing talking about the incident in Remus Lupin's class until chapter 11, page 227 in the hardcover, American version _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_, where it says, "… Harry, Ron, Hermione sat down side by side at the end of the table. "Crackers!" said Dumbledore enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver noisemaker to Snape, who took it reluctantly and tugged. With a bang like a gunshot, the cracker flew apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture. Harry, remembering the boggart, caught Ron's eye and they both grinned; Snape's mouth thinned and he pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who swapped it for his wizard's hat at once." (If anyone has trouble finding that in the book, email me and I'll prove to you it's there.)

Now, for all intensive purposes, one could insist that it could be inferred from that passage that Snape knew about what had happened, and that the hat had to do with the boggart. But, if you just think, it doesn't specifically say that he knew; he could have just been being his usual 'cheery' self, took one look at the hat, and blanched in repugnance. Therefore, being his usual crabby self, sneered and pushed the hat away, not wanting to be any part of any holiday cheer. It said that Harry and Ron remembered the Boggart incident, but not that Snape did.

Wow, made that a little drawn out, didn't I? Well, just wanted to explain myself, to make the story make more sense. I hope that clears it up. If you have any more questions or would like to continue the discussion with me, please, feel free to email. I'm always happy to chat.

On with the show!

"Professor!"

"Professor Dumbledore!" 

Pounding sounded through the halls of Hogwarts as four fists beat desperately on the oak door of the Headmaster's office. After directing all of the students to their respected houses, only three remained; all three were determined to speak with the Headmaster. 

"Headmaster!" The pounding continued furiously, "Headmaster, this is urgent!"

The handle swiftly began to turn and the door creaked open. The Headmaster's face appeared, though usually with twinkling mischievous blue eyes and a warm smile, at this time appeared worried and strained. "What is all the commotion out here?"

Three worried and expectant faces looked up at him with trepidation. The Headmaster looked at all three faces and raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you boys supposed to be in Hogsmeade? You still have about an hour and a half left."

"We can't, Professor!" 

He ushered them inside his office. "And what would be the cause of that, Mister Weasley?"

"Death Eaters stormed the village!" cried Harry.

"Snape went after them to try and hold them off, and Hermione went to help him! Neither has come back yet!" followed Neville.

Something in Dumbledore's eyes died suddenly; Harry really wasn't sure how to describe it to anyone, and wasn't sure if he knew what it was himself. Instead of offering them a seat, he folded his hands before him. "Where?" 

"Right outside Honeydukes, he ran out and started to confront one of them, I suspect it was Malfoy, and Hermione ran after him! She was worried sick!" answered Neville frightfully. 

"Honeydukes?" echoed Dumbledore, a twinkle of concern in his eyes, "Why was he in Honeydukes?"

Harry shifted on his feet nervously, afraid of punishment. "He asked Ron and I to lead everyone back to Hogwarts from the village through a small tunnel under the store. Death Eaters were literally flooding the place. He had no choice but to protect us, but why he stayed behind I'll never know." He swallowed, even though his throat was dry. "Hermione said they'd be right behind us," his voice grew small with sadness and frustration, "but they didn't come back."

Neville's cheeks were rosy with cold and uneasiness, and he had taken to ringing his hands. "We have no idea where they are," he explained, holding out his hands in exasperation, "and we wanted to go back and get them, but Harry said it wasn't a good idea."

"I was afraid the Death Eaters were still around and I didn't want any one else to get hurt unnecessarily," Harry explained.

Dumbledore put a comforting hand on top of Harry's head, "That was a very wise decision." He seemed to be doing some fast thinking, his eyes diverted to the window for a few seconds before coming to focus on the three boys again. "I'll send some of the professors to find Professor Snape and Hermione. Rest assured, we will find them."

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Harry, a small smile making its way onto his face.

"For now, though," Dumbledore finished, "I think you should stay in your dorms. I'll have some hot chocolate and tea sent up from the kitchens to all the dorms. Hurry along now," he opened the door for them to depart, "I'll go and alert the other professors immediately."

Harry, Ron, and Neville left. 

They walked in silence for most of the walk to their dormitories. There was nothing to be said; well, nothing intelligent, anyway. 

"Do you think they'll be back for Christmas next week?" Neville asked timidly.

Harry began to climb the staircase, "I'm sure they will." Though he was unsure himself, it convinced Neville enough to stop worrying for the time being. It even helped him to hear himself say it, even if he didn't believe it. It brought a little faith into his heart. 

Harry gave the password and Neville climbed clumsily into the common room, only to be bombarded by questions from his classmates. 

Ron pulled Harry aside before he went in and was attacked by people. The hand on Harry's wrist was shaking, "Do you really think they'll find them, Harry?" he asked fretfully.

Harry put on a smile and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Sure I do," he said strongly, his eyes bright. "After all, they couldn't have just disappeared." 

One morning and one evening passed before Hermione's body built up enough strength to rise out of unconsciousness. Her limbs felt as if they'd been pounded with a meat tenderizer and her chest and torso felt shattered and bruised. Her eyes parted only slightly before she realized she had no intention of opening them fully. Her eyes ached as they tried to become accustomed to the complete darkness of… well, she wasn't quite sure of where she was at that moment. Her pupils dilated a moment, and she slowly turned her head despite the pain in her neck and she noticed she still couldn't see anything. 

Slowly she was aware of the coldness of, she suspected, the room. It flooded through her thick robes and bit into her skin, freezing her insides. Her muscles felt nonexistent, and her own fingers like ice. The place smelled of decaying flesh, the strong smell burning the insides of her nasal passage. Blood and sweat seemed to be spattered on the walls, their scent also making themselves present. She also smelled waste; all of those combined made her stomach curl and twist; not only because of the potency of their smell. 

She tried to move, but found her body unresponsive. Fearing she was paralyzed, she tried again, this time with more force, and managed to stretch out her legs, but yelled in pain. Needles, pinpricks, and hammers attacked her bones. She didn't try again to move._ I'm alive, _she told herself solidly, _and I can move, I suppose that's a good sign_…

A jolt of alarm hit her as she heard voices. Soft at first, like they were coming from a poorly tuned radio, then louder as they grew closer. She heard them approach her sounding like pounded footsteps on an old staircase,

"Here, down here, I swear I heard something."

_They heard my scream, _she thought, mental scolding herself for her own lack of common sense. 

Heavy metal boots; at least two pairs of them; pounded on stone floor outside the door of the chamber. The sound echoed off the walls and slightly reminded her of the sound her Potion Master's shoes made on the floor of the dungeons when he was busy pacing during his dramatic dictation of notes. Her heart almost did a leapt as she remembered he had been with her; she desperately wanted a companion with her, even if it was Snape. 

"Do you think she's awake yet?" a man's voice said harshly, "It's been a day and a half now."

_A day and a half? I've been unconscious that long? _she thought with panic.

"I hope so," said another, younger male, "It's no fun torturing someone if they're not awake enough to feel it."

One chuckled; a deep, echoing chuckle, that rasped in his throat like his esophagus was tight from consumption of alcohol. "Yes, but she'll be feeling it when she wakes up."

Hermione stiffened and shut her eyes tightly, trying not to tremble. With fear or cold, she didn't know, but she relaxed nonetheless and steadied her breathing. She heard the lock turn with a key in the door and the knob slowly turn with a moan, and felt bright light flutter onto her eyelids. Her mouth felt immediately dry and she wanted to swallow, but refrained from doing so when a shadow cast itself across her face. 

"Damn," echoed the raspy voice, "she's still out cold." 

She felt his steel-tipped shoe dig into the flesh of her side, and she gritted her teeth to hold back a groan. The muscles in her jaw tightened, and he kicked her body over onto her stomach. "Yup. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was dead." He took a couple steps away from her, "Make sure she's still breathing."

A cool hand was slipped under her chin, the sharp fingernails digging into the skin of her jaw. "It's dim, but it's still there."

The man sighed. "All right, leave her be, for now, at least," he said quietly. "Maybe she'll be awake by morning."

The door closed and locked.

Leaving her to herself again. Her and her fearful thoughts. 

Now that her eyes were closed, she realized how desirable falling back into unconsciousness was. The darkness flooded her eyes, and she shifted her arms so her head was cradled somewhat. Her neck remained stiff, but the tautness resided somewhat. She felt a headache spread like fire from the back of her head towards the backs of her eyes, making sleep more attractive each moment that passed. A sleepy whimper escaped the back of her throat, and she let her mind take over.

The voice began to retreat as her body began to shut down again, too weak to move.

"I suppose she's better off than that other fellow."

The raspy voiced man replied, "Who, the traitor? The Lord told us his name some time ago, but it seems I've forgotten."

"Severus, I believe it was."

"Ah yes," she heard as the answer, as her stomach lurched, "I heard his screaming all last night. Malfoy's torture room is right below mine. Had trouble getting to sleep. Screams sounded something dreadful."

"_He'll_ be something dreadful by the time Nott and Macnair are done with him… not to mention the Lord. I'm surprised he let them have their fun with him first."

Though Hermione was rapidly falling down the little rabbit hole into nothingness, she still understood what they were saying. _Oh please let him live, _she prayed hysterically, _don't let him die…_

"I wouldn't be surprised if he was dead by now," said the every-retreating voice, "not with the torture he's received."

A tiny sob escaped her throat as her cheeks dampened, and she wished to God that Snape would live and be all right. She wiped her eye with the back of her hand and buried her face in the sleeve of her cloak. Malfoy had won; she'd lost Dumbledore's trust. If Snape died, she didn't know if she could live with herself. She was positive she'd be expelled for sure; what would Ron and Harry think? Would they abandon her too? Would they look down on her with scorn, like she was something awful? 

The severity of the situation suddenly dawned on her and she buried her head deeper in her arms to muffle the sound she made sobbing. She would end up a lonely muggle, like she was before she realized what she was born to do. Magic. It was her life now, and she wished it would always be, but she knew that since she had let down the headmaster, all the trust she had been bestowed by the rest of the staff was now gone as well; Lupin would despise her, just like he despised Pettigrew; McGonagall would think of her as a prized student no longer. No one could respect a girl who killed one of her own professors. 

She couldn't stop the tears; the pain she imagined and felt was too great. She came into this world alone, and obviously now, she was destined to leave it alone.

Harry sat dejectedly at his desk in Transfigurations and looked up towards the front of the room where Professor McGonagall was explaining advanced transformations of animate objects, not really paying attention to anything she said. Ron sat, head in his arms, eyes focused on his feather quill as he bobbed it up and down in his fingers. He let out a heart heavy sigh, and Harry swore McGonagall noticed, but she didn't say anything. 

With the holidays steadily approaching, their hopes for a Christmas with Hermione were slim. They asked Dumbledore, Lupin, and McGonagall everyday whether or not they had heard anything about or from her. They always answered negatively; Harry and Ron departed with even heavier hearts, slowly losing hope. 

Though Ron noticed her absence, Harry seemed to miss her more. He lay awake at night, missing her gentle words, her encouragement. Her constant repetition of "You'll get it eventually, don't give up". He missed her presence, her playfulness. He even missed they're petty arguments, even though there were rarely any to speak of. Most of all, he missed the playful banter the three shared, which was never heard since her disappearance. Ron was still there to talk to, to confide in, but he was no Hermione. 

Neville was extremely distressed about Hermione's current position. He feared she had died, and was weepy every time something was mentioned that reminded him of her. Though somewhere in the back of their minds, Ron and Harry had thought the same thing, they didn't let the chance of it being true control their thoughts. Hermione was intelligent; she'd find a way around it, she would win. She always had in the past. 

Harry had thought about searching for her, but the truth was, he had no idea where to start. There was no way of getting back into Hogsmeade, now that the passageway that had been most convenient in the journey was blocked off; its presence was obvious now. But school was in session still, and he still had to attend classes, much to his and Ron's dismay. They were not given lighter workloads simply because their friend was possibly in danger; sympathy was not something they had seen much of either.

No one else had really noticed Hermione's desertion; only Snape's lack of presence had been noted. It was all over the school, from people who had had potions and had proof that he hadn't been there. "It's a miracle!" some cried, "Snape had taken a sick day for the first time in decades!" Only Ron, Harry, and Neville knew the truth about his vanishing from classes; he wasn't here to teach them.

Dumbledore had come to speak with the three of them. He told them that all the professors were doing as much as they could to find the whereabouts of the two missing people; as soon as they had found anything; he would be sure to tell them. 

Harry was plagued with violent nightmares depicting various ways of torture and death. He woke with a start several times during the first week she was gone, screaming loud enough to wake the other boys of his dorm. Ron would try to comfort him, but having his own fear, he rarely did much good. The only thing he could do was assure him that she was out there, and wherever she was she was alive, and most likely, well.

Hermione surfaced through the murky depths of unconsciousness again one day later. She awoke to the scraping of the door to her chamber on the stone floor, and heard the metal boots clunking against the ground again. The light from the hall outside her room rushed onto her eyelids and they burned slightly, not being used to anything but darkness for two and a half days. 

"There, just throw him in there, next to the girl. God knows she probably won't survive long either." 

The raspy voice clawed at her brain and she stifled a deep breath as she squeezed her eyes closed. A muffled cloth sound echoed, then the sound of struggling with fabric. Obviously someone's clothing. 

A loud thud shook the ground as the boots scuffled on the floor, the man throwing something large and heavy to the land a few feet away from her. She heard a painful gagged moan, and the door creaking and scrapping closed. The light receded from her eyes and she breathed again, taking a deep gulp of air and rolling onto her back. 

The opened her eyes again and noticed that the room was slightly more lit than the last time she had been in her right mind; a small, window fitted with metal bars allowed a small stream of light to enter the room from outside. She assumed it was the middle of the day from the angle of the sun from the window; she wasn't sure how long she'd been out for.

She sat up suddenly, and her head was pounded from behind with aching; she felt like a train had hit her. The pain began at her lower back and trailing up her spine and settling at the back of her head. She gave a heartfelt groan and raised a trembling hand to the back of her throbbing head. With another heavy breath, her eyes opened to slits and she allowed them to adjust to the room.

It was the first time she had actually been able to make out the finer details of the room's décor since she's arrived there; there had never been enough sunlight to make out anything more than a foot in front of her face. From what she could tell, there wasn't much to see; the room was for the most part bare, except for a small pile of worn blankets thrown in the corner opposite her, and a small bathroom with a skin and tub. The room looked as if, a few hundred years ago, it could have passed as a servant's quarters. Now, it seemed that it had been stripped of its homeliness and was now used as a prison for captives. 

She could finally see the door, and noticed how it was a huge old oak door, its knob gnarled silver, which seemed to have tarnished over the years. It consisted of molding wooden boards, which with wear over the years had warped so that light flooded through the cracks, and onto the source of all the commotion.

A large heap of cloth lay warningly on the floor in front of her, the light from the door contrasting with the dark color of the fabric. It threw odd shadows along the creases and folds. Hermione couldn't remember what the men had said before they had thrown it in her cell; she had been too groggy to think clearly, much less to remember any details. She leaned forward and set herself on her hands and knees, and crawled towards the pile of cloth.

Curiosity had always been one of her most famous idiosyncrasies, and as she crept closer, it peaked. She reached out a trembling hand and pulled at a piece of the fabric. It felt damp, almost soaked. She pulled away and eyed her palm as her eyes grew wide. Crimson bled through the patterns of lines on her hand as it dripped down her wrist. Determined not to scream, she held her breath and pushed a little ways away from the bundle. What if it wasn't just a pile of fabrics? What if something was wrapped up in the cloth? What if that thing was dead? Or worse, what if that thing was _alive_?

Well, if it is alive, it's obviously hurt and suffering, she reasoned. Gathering her courage once more, she grabbed a handful of fabric and drew it back. She jumped as she found a pale hand buried underneath, its veins a dark purple against the sallow color of the skin. It was dyed in a dark shade of red, trails of blood flowing down the delicate fingertips and pooling in the cracks between the stones in the floor. 

She took the hand into her palm and found a twisted thumb, as well as a stab wound through the bone. _Thumbscrews_, she thought painfully. 

As she pulled back more cloth she found a broken wrist, battered arm, and a large gash across the shoulder. Whatever had happened to this person, he was beaten, and beaten badly. Hermione figured she could mend most of the wounds she had seen, but most of them would take some time to heal, even if she sewed them back together. The fabric was caught around the head, and she grasped the edge under the chin and as she cradled it in her arms as she ripped away the material. 

Her fingers plunged into deep black hair as she maneuvered her hands to keep the head from falling to the floor. It rolled into the crook of her elbow and she felt for a pulse underneath the chin, pushing away more of the cloak. The face was turned down towards her lap as she tried to roll the body upright, and managed to push the body onto its side as she swept sweat-ridden strands of hair out of the face.

She couldn't stagger a gasp.

"Oh God," she breathed, her stomach doing a roll.

She realized with terror and alarm that it was the Potion Master's head that she was cradling in her lap, his mouth gagged.

She pushed herself away from him with a yelp, and let his head fall with a sickening thud to the stone floor with her departing haste. She took quick deep breaths, wheezing with the air she pulled in. Gods, what _happened_ to him? What did they _do_?

Realizing she had dropped his head she gasped and quickly turned him onto his back the rest of the way and cradled him against her, removing the gag and his outer cloak so she could support him in a way that would do the least damage. She tore away his battered clothing, leaving him so he was completely naked save his pants; they were the only piece of clothing left in a somewhat manageable condition. A sort of mothering affection came over her, like a nurse tending to an injured patient. _Merlin, Hermione, you're turning into more of a healer everyday_, she thought to herself with sarcasm, propping his head against her shoulder as she rubbed her hands together, summoning heat. 

She'd learned some healing spells that tended to heal skin wounds: ones that weren't deeper than the skin tissue. From what she had seen, though Snape had more broken bones and stab wounds than she could count, most were scraps and bruises, gashes and burns that were easy to heal, though the scabs and abrasions wouldn't fade for a week or so. These spells used heat as a main component, and using a book she's found buried behind a shelf in the Hogsmeade bookstore, she'd taught herself to conjure heat using her hands and her own body temperature, and forcing them into her palm and fingertips. 

It took fairly small amounts of concentration now that she was so used to it, and she went into the familiar pattern of rubbing and working her hands together to create a burning heat. 

She suddenly remembered that the patient had to be conscious for the spell to have the most effect. The brain had to be awake so that it could tell the body to help the healer in the process, using the body's own immune system to summon cells that aided in skin regrowth. 

She sighed, knowing it would be painful for him to be awake with so many wounds.

She placed a warm palm against his forehead, the other supporting the back of his head.

"_Ennervate_!_"_

Snape's body jerked in her hold and he trembled. He quickly took in a rattled breath. He seemed to notice her presence, and he became frightened and tried to push away from her, only to manage in sliding out of her lap and onto the floor with a dull sound. He moaned in pain with his mouth closed as he landed on his arm, the one she suspected to be broken. _He didn't open his mouth; they must have broken his jaw too_, she looked down at him with sorrow. He still hadn't opened his eyes, either.

"Professor, it's me, Hermione. Please, I'll help you," she tried as she placed warm hands on his shoulders. He didn't seem to hear her; he pushed away her hands and pulled back from her with his good arm, pressing his injured arm against his torso as if to guard it. 

"Professor please, you can trust me! If you keep moving, you'll only injure yourself further!" she cried as he collapsed against the wall in the corner of the room. A panic seemed to start in her. "Why don't you hear me? Why aren't you listening?"

She stopped, frozen. _What if he **can't** hear me_? she pondered. As he sat against the wall panting from the obvious effort, she crawled towards him, careful not to touch him, and snapped her fingers, right next to his ear. He didn't respond. She did it again, just in case he hadn't heard her the first time. Still, nothing.

She sat back on her heels, stunned. Only certain spells caused deafness, and she didn't know of any that had counter curses. _How am I supposed to talk to him_? she wondered. _Think about it, Granger,_ her mind spat, _you're smart; think of something_! 

She sat back and searched her brain, allowing Snape time to calm down. She had never known anyone that was deaf before. She remembered, along time ago, watching the television and seeing a documentary on a deaf mute who communicated with sign language. _But he still hasn't opened his eyes,_ she reasoned, _how am I supposed to talk to him if he refuses to open his eyes_?

She reasoned that if she tried to raise his eyelids, he would shove her away, and she may even inflict more pain on him. Sparking an idea, she grabbed his hand. Writing as if her finger were a quill, she spelled out her name into his hand.

He had started to pull away, but when he realized she wasn't hurting him, he allowed her to write in his hand. Her hand was gentle and small, not abusive and rough like those of the people torturing him. She seemed to be spelling something. _Hermione_.

He frowned, but seemed to relax before her, and reached out to her. _He needs proof it's me,_ she figured. 

She took his hand gently and raised it to her hair, allowing him to touch the fine strands. It was frizzy, but soft and she figured he should be able to recognize her by her tresses, since he insulted them so frequently. 

His fingertips grazed her curls, and he knew instantly she wasn't lying. Gods, she was alive!

_You trust me?_ she asked slowly.

He nodded yes.

She took his hand again. _Heal jaw?_ she wrote into his palm.

He nodded his head quickly. 

She thought quickly of a spell. _I only know of one to heal broken bones_, she thought. She raised her hands to his cheeks, right above his jaw. "_Ossificus Reparo_!" 

She felt his broken bones grind together as they moved back in place, and he groaned and lifted his good hand shakily to her wrist. After a few gruesome seconds, however, his jaw was back in place, good as new, though he was breathing fairly heavily. 

She took to writing into his hand again. _Feel better_? she asked. 

"My jaw is fine, it's just the rest of my body that feels like hell," he answered sarcastically, his voice still very weak.

_Why don't you open eyes_? she asked.

"It's… painful, and I can't see anything," he sighed.

Fearing he was injured, she sat up straight and spelled again. _Open for me, please_? she asked.

"No…" he whimpered. 

_Please_? she asked again.

He exhaled heavily, but slowly lifted his eyelids. He flinched like a person would looking into direct light, though there barely was any light in the room. Hermione gasped, though, as she peered into his face. The Potion Master's usual sky black eyes were a bright transparent blue, almost gray, and as she looked at him they remained unfocused. His pupils dilated and shrunk, as if he was trying to focus on something very small, but it seemed he just couldn't make his eyes see.

She sighed. _Can you see_? 

"No," came the blatant reply after a moment if hesitation.

_Hex_? 

"I don't know. I was barely conscious," he said as he closed his eyes, looking wearier then before, as if he was about to fall asleep.

_Want more help? I heal wounds_? she asked, feeling somewhat awkward. Long questions and sentences took too much time to spell out, and she ended up sounding like she was three.

"Please," he said, his voice small.

She healed his major wounds first, though she didn't do as well of a job as she would have if she had had her wand. A few minutes of more bones scraping against each other and teeth clenching and all his bones were mended. She then moved onto his more minor injuries, repairing burns and bruises, then healing the deeper stab wounds and abrasions. She knew he was experiencing immense pain with her practice; most healers put their patients under local or full anesthetics while performing the types of charms as she. But she had no pain killers; only her hands. She worked for a good hour, finally ending her session with the stab wound on his shoulder. 

He sighed in fatigue, and she knew he would probably sleep; it was best to allow his body to finish healing and recuperate after all the different things happening to him in the past two days. It was when she went to retrieve the blankets in the far corner of the room that she noticed the goose bumps along his pale skin and the shiver in his movements. 

Noticing for the first time the draft that seemed to float in the room, she settled swiftly next to him, signing into his hand again. _Cold_?

"Very," he shivered, curling further into himself, "and exhausted."

_Then sleep_, she commanded. _You need rest_. 

He seemed to want to say something smart in reply, but didn't have the energy. She wrapped his own cloak around his trembling shoulders and used the blankets for a makeshift bed, laying them down on top of each other to take the sting of cold out of the floor. _Come,_ she rolled him onto the layers of cloth, _sleep here_.

"Where will you sleep?" he asked defiantly, using what little strength he had left.

_I'll be fine, _she replied,_ it's you we should worry about._

"We may not be at Hogwarts," he breathed, "but you are still my student, and therefore my… responsibility." His speech was labored; he needed desperately to sleep.

She sighed. Knowing Snape, she figured he wouldn't relent. _Here, _she concluded, shimmying onto the blanket next to him, _I'll sleep next to you, make sure you're ok_.

"Hermione," he said warningly.

_My body heat will keep you warm_, she answered. She placed a finger against his lips to silence him. "Shhh," she cooed, even though he couldn't hear her, "It will be fine soon, don't worry."

Despite his earlier protests, he curled up next to her, drinking in the heat she gave off. He felt so stupid, wishing he had never gotten into this predicament, but she was so soft and comfortable to rest against… he was too tired to fight anything. 

The evil façade of the horrible, vile, intolerable man that he presented in class slowly melted away under her caress, and he, little by little, found himself unable to stand up to her forcing him to slumber. 

He was dimly aware of her wrapping her arm under his head, cushioning him against her shoulder so he didn't have to lie against the flat blankets. He felt wonderful, safe in someone's embrace, even if it was that of a mere student. She was the only person who seemed to care about his well being, and was able to end his suffering. And the warmth; he couldn't even begin to describe the sensation. He pressed closer to her, finally feeling a sense of security that he had never felt before. 

She slowly stroked his hair, trailing her fingers through the soft strands. She could remember when her mother used to do it to her when she was little and afraid of something, and it always made her feel calm and safe. When Snape pulled closer to her, she suspected he felt something of the same sort.

His breathing slowed to a normal pace and he pulled his cloak tighter around himself, pulling closer to her as warmth spread through him. Sighing once more, he relaxed into a state of peaceful sleep.

_Feel better, Professor. I'll find a way out of this_, she promised, even though her mind was the only one to hear it, before she drifted into a calmer state of sleep than before. 

There! Happy now? A little taste of what was in the summary. I was really unhappy with how this came out. It really sucks. But I have no idea how to rewrite this because fluff was never one of my fine points. Sorry to all the people who expected something really fantastic out of this chapter. It probably doesn't meet up to your standards, but I really can't do anything better. I apologize.

If everyone hates it a lot, I'll _try_ and revise it, but I won't promise anything; I'm not a romance writer.

Thanks to all the people who emailed me and wanted me to finish up this chapter. I don't think many people read my last chapter because I uploaded it when ff.net was having trouble with its hard disks. I didn't get many reviews for that one; I hope it wasn't because it was really terrible. Tell me if it was, ok?

Anyway, thanks for reading up this far. I hope that what I've written has provided you with some entertainment for the time being. 

Next chapter will be out: God knows when.

Remember: Email and Review!

~Shorty


	8. A Blade of Silver

First off, I would like to apologize immensely for the time it took for this to get out.  I've started school again, and therefore, I have no time to write anymore.  And I haven't really wanted to write… I'm slowly losing interest.  Hopefully I'll finish this story, though, so I'll try not to just stop it here.

Secondly, I would also like to apologize for how short this is.  And how pointless it is.  Just some background, nothing interesting, sorry again.

Third, I want everyone to know that I didn't have this proof read because I didn't want to hassle my beta-reader.  So any mistakes you find are because of me being a lazy arse.  Sorry. 

Gees, I'm doing a lot of apologizing.  Just read.  And don't hurt me. 

P.S.- This chapter is dedicated to all the Draco fans out there. 

Chapter 6

"I can't hear them!  What are they saying?"

"Shush, Ron, I'm trying to listen.   You'll give us away!"

"Ow!  Was that really necessary?"

"Shhh!"

Harry nudged Ron in the ribs once more, silencing his protests.  Ron pouted, frowning at him as his cheeks burned in frustration.  Harry turned away and focused his attention back on the conversation taking place behind the door he stood next to.  

"… looked everywhere we could think of, Albus-"

"What can you hear?" Ron whispered loudly, his eyes staring intently at the back of Harry's head from where he sat on the floor.

Harry swiveled his head towards him, "Will you be quiet?  I can't hear what they're talking about with you constantly muttering…"

Harry could hear Dumbledore's chair creak as he stood, and the floorboards moan under his feet.  His shoes shuffled on the carpet, pacing.  "We've tried all we can, Minerva.  There's nothing-"

"Harry?"

Harry smacked his hand across Ron's mouth and pressed his back closer to the wall.

"-without getting the Ministry involved.  We would have to deal with Cornelius's insanity once more.  I can't let that occur.  He would take out his frustrations on the students, and he may even take it upon himself to try and get something done, and may even jeopardize the lives of those for whom we are searching."

He heard Lupin sigh and place his hands heavily on the table.  "We can't sit around and do nothing; it can't be an option.  It's been three days already."

Dumbledore's pacing paused, and it seemed farthest away from Harry.  He imagined Dumbledore was standing before his window, probably gazing out onto the castle's snowy landscape.  "I am quite aware of the time that has passed, Remus.  I understand it's very hard to just sit around and do nothing.  However, there is very little we can do.  We've already exhausted many possibilities we thought of.  There is very little left to accomplish without breaking Ministry laws."

Ron shifted beside Harry; frustrated he was being left out of all the details, he crossed his arms.  He sighed and slumped against the wall, and Harry smacked his arm solidly as Flitwick's voice entered his ears.  "What exactly have we done, Albus?  What ideas have we determined can not help us or get us anywhere?"

Dumbledore sighed tiredly, something Harry was sure he had never heard him do.  He could just picture was Dumbledore looked like, standing beaten by the window, his posture slack and his eyes lacking their usual warmth.  He could imagine McGonagall sitting sadly at the table, her eyes downcast as she sighed and slumped against her arm.  He could practically see Lupin staring off down at the floor, his arms supporting him against the tabletop.  He could see Flitwick, Spout, and Trelawny positioned at the table with faces of depression, anger, and defeat.

The past few days had been hard on the staff of Hogwarts.  Dumbledore had taken over Snape's classes, and the time spent in the dungeons passed with an uneasiness and anxiety.  Dumbledore didn't act as snide or cruel as Snape, but paid close attention to each student and what they were doing, and made sure everything was in order.  Though they still completed the same potions work, it was uncomfortably odd not to see him brooding over this paperwork at the front of the room, staring back at them if they dared look up from their work.  Instead, seeing Dumbledore's warm stare made them realize today wasn't normal.  

More people had realized Hermione's disappearance, and the Slytherins had realized her absence as well.  Their taunting had Ron at his wit's end, which made him even more stressed than he already was.  With their grades slowly dropping and they're hope of seeing her for Christmas diminishing, Ron and Harry slept less and less, the nightmares increasing.  Sometimes they would unexpectedly meet up in the common room at early hours in the morning, neither of them being able to drift into unconsciousness easily.  Most nights were spent sitting in front of the fire, as if they were waiting for her to walk through the portrait door and scold them for being up late and send them back to bed with a hug and a wish for a good night's rest.  

"We've searched Hogsmeade through several times.  No evidence of any kind was left behind except several small splatters of blood.  There is nothing to _follow_," Dumbledore explained.  "We've already questioned Harry, Ron, and Neville to the extent of their knowledge of the incident.  You can see that the event has begun to take its toll on them.  The disappearance of a friend is a very frightening experience to endure.  They've shown a lot of courage, but they won't be able to handle it much longer.  They're still young.  It's a tough burden for anyone to bear."

Harry slumped farther down the wall as Ron gave him a quizzical look.  Harry felt annoyed; of course it was hard, but it wasn't as if he was falling apart.  Sure, he couldn't sleep, barely ate, and was unable study, but he was completely fine!  He wasn't a child anymore, constantly running to elders because he was scared or angry or sad.  He was handling the situation just fine by himself. 

"Harry, are you alright?" Ron questioned.

"I'm _fine_," Harry bit out, and immediately felt sorry for his tone as Ron recoiled and sat staring at his hands after muttering a small, "I was only concerned, is all.  Sorry."

Harry exhaled slowly.  "Sorry, Ron, I just haven't had a good day in a while, you know?"

"Yeah, I hear you," Ron whispered, cracking his knuckles, "I haven't had a good night sleep in ages."

Dumbledore starting talking again, and Harry 'shh'ed him and listened again.

"… mentioned something about Lucius Malfoy being involved, but without proper evidence, we have no right to accuse him of anything."

 "We have eye-witness accounts, Albus!  What about them?  Do they not count for anything?" Lupin cried.

"Not from a minor, no, they have no value, I'm afraid.  Even if they were of the age, they would have to go through extensive testing to prove they were speaking the truth, and were not influenced by any spell, hex, or charm.  Even then, it might not help at all.  It's very risky business dealing with specific facts in a time like this, when we are at war."

"So what you are saying," Trelawny began, and Harry could perfectly view her movement from his mind, of her folding her hands and placing them gracefully on the table, her eyes wistful, "is that there is very little we can accomplish, and therefore, nothing we can do for them?"

Harry held his breath, his heart racing waiting for Dumbledore to speak again.  

He heard him sigh.  "At this point in time, no, there is nothing we can do."

Harry felt himself release a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding in.  

So Dumbledore couldn't do anything.  Hermione wasn't going to come back.  It was like letting the air out of a balloon.  Harry's heart fell like a stone.   

"Come on, Ron, let's go," he said quietly, not wanting to hear anymore.  

Ron was quiet and didn't ask any questions, which made Harry feel a little better.  Slowly they stood so that the invisibility cloak didn't slip, and made their way back to the common room.  

Harry was silent most of the way there.  His face ashen, his heart limp, he suddenly felt very small and vulnerable.  He had expected Dumbledore to have all the answers and know what to do, since he had always solved all of Harry's problems in the past.  Dumbledore was wise and intuitive, and knew how to handle any situation.  He suddenly realized that Dumbledore wasn't God, and didn't see everything.  He felt his hope swiftly slip through his fingers.  

"Harry, what's wrong?  You're awfully quiet."

Harry quickly repeated what he had heard for Ron.  Ron's expression changed from curious to frightened. 

"Does that mean she's not coming back at all, then?" he asked worriedly as they quietly climbed in the portrait door. 

Harry pulled the cloak off of his head and gave Ron a small, sad smile, "It certainly doesn't look like it, does it?"

*

He quickly jumped from the train steps out onto the cement landing as the train's steam whistle bellowed.  Gracefully whipping the hair out of his face, his cold gray eyes slid frostily over the scene before him.  

Not spotting his father anywhere close by, he took to watching the other students greet their parents with warm smiles and happy faces.  His face contorted evilly; one could almost call it a sneer.  Though his face made it look much worse.  With smooth white skin, it seemed foreign for a disturbed expression to touch his lips, even though most people who knew him well enough knew he had no other appearance.

 One child ran exuberantly to her mother and threw her arms around her waist, burying her head into the winkles of the woman's cloak.  He barely caught the mumbled "I missed you!" muttered by the mother into the girl's hair.  

His face knotted again and he turned his eyes in the other direction.  He had never known was it was like to be missed.  Father always said that young boys should be seen but not heard, and he had grown up a little less than noticed.  He knew his father preferred him to be at school, out of the way.  Mother was the only one who seemed to tend to him, but God forbid he crave any physical contact.  Hugs and kisses were unknown in his childhood.

Father was always very busy.  He was an important man, or so he said.  Since he was rarely home, he found himself playing by himself, using his own imagination to keep himself busy.  When he was young, Mother always found more interest in going to expensive parties and sitting around the house brooding or staring at her own reflection constantly.  She had never wanted a son; a whiny, crying, costly little thing that screamed all night and day and relentlessly wanted attention.  It would ruin her perfect figure.  However, it had been something her husband had wanted.  An heir to the family estate, he explained.  She never said no to her husband.  

"Draco."

He turned and his silver eyes fell upon a tall, cloaked figure standing behind him.  He felt himself smile, even though he didn't want to.  "Father."

He made no move to touch him, hug him.  He simply gave a smile back, though it didn't touch his eyes.   "I expect school has been decent for you?"

"About as well as expected," he replied coolly, turning his gaze to watch the train begin to inch away from the station, the whistle ringing and the smoke beginning to steam and trail behind it as it fled.

He felt the wind following the momentum of the train catch him and whip his cloak around his thin body, his hair brushing into his face again.  Sighing, he looked down at the train tracks. 

"Let's go, Draco.  You know your mother doesn't like us to be late."

"What about my luggage?" said Draco quietly, eyeing his father unemotionally.  

"I've had the servants take it already.  It should be in your room already."

Draco looked off in the distance as his father muttered, "Let's go."

He felt a large hand on his shoulder and suddenly the world began to blur into black and gray as he was transported back to the Manor.  

He opened his eyes as he heard his father's feet tread the habitual route up the grand flowing steps to the large oak doors.  "Come now, Draco.  Do not dawdle."

He sneered at his father's retreating back and reluctantly followed.  Clutching the edge of the door as it began to slowly creek closed, he slipped into the dark hallway.

Shadows cast across his face as the light cast from the door disappeared, a loud thud echoing off the walls as Draco followed towards the light down the long hallway.  His father swept quickly ahead of him down the winding staircase, towards the basement.  Draco knew the routine by now.  

When he came home for holidays, his father would update him of the occurrences that had taken place in his absence.  He would be informed of the upcoming events, of what he was expected to do around the house, and what to expect in the days to come.  Usually nothing really interesting came up, and Draco trailed behind his father through the house's many corridors, listening to his droning voice and daydreaming.

As his father began to groan on about the house elves and how many he had released in the last month, Draco's mind began to wander, as it had so many times before.    

His eyes trailed over the stonewalls, wondering how they could looks so warm, yet be so cold to the touch.  He followed the wall down to were it curved towards the right, where a window allowed the only light into the dank passageway.  Its faded curtains billowed in the cold draft as his father hurried past, and Draco's eyes steadily followed the pattern of threads woven into the cloth.  The colors faded, dust seemed to be permanently settled in between the fine strands.  He wrinkled his nose in repugnance and sped up to find his father.  _This house has gone to the dogs these days…_

"-and so mother is driving herself mad trying to make the house look presentable for guests," his father finished.

_She's obviously not doing a very good job_, he thought with a wry smile.

Down another flight of stairs, down a dark hallway…

"I want you on your best behavior for our guests, Draco."

"Yes, father."  _Like I do anything but_, he thought with distain.

His father paused in step, turning to face his son.  "You're awfully quiet.  Is anything wrong?"

Draco's eyes peered like ice towards him.  "No."

His father walked slowly towards him, placing a cold hand on his shoulder.  Draco looked towards his hand, his eyes confused.  "I know I'll never be like a brother to you, Draco, but I do wish that you could feel that you can talk to me if you need.  I try to be here for you."

Draco looked up at him with a bitter stare.  "I know," he replied.  

They followed another staircase down, and Draco cold feel his skin prickle and tense as it grew colder.  They were obviously headed for the basement.  It was the fastest route to the main hall of the Manor from where they had ended up, and Draco wanted to leave as quickly as possible.

His father swiftly walked towards the corridor for the dungeons.  Draco felt a chill as he thought of the first time he had snuck down to see what he could find.  He had been only five, and the things he had seen still haunted his memory from time to time.  He rarely went down there without a reason.

Most of the year it stayed uninhabited, since the Lord usually dealt with problem people promptly.  But there were occasionally a select few who he wanted to die a painful death- after torture.  

They reached the double doors from which the labyrinth of a dungeon branched off.  Two burly heavily armed warlocks stood guard in front of the two doors, watching Draco carefully as he passed.  He responded by giving them an equally frightening stare back, and continued to follow dutifully behind his father.

"Father, what are the Warlocks doing here-" started Draco, finally out of the earshot of the Warlocks.

"That is a question for which you will never know the answer.  You will stay away from the dungeons, Draco.  I mean that seriously."

"But, Father-"

"I will hear no more on the subject, Draco."  This marked the end of the conversation.  "And I do not want to hear of you anywhere near there.  Do I make myself understood?"

Draco's eyes focused unemotionally on his father's angry face.  "Yes, Father."

"Good."  His father opened another set of doors into the main hall, and turned towards his son.  "You may go now."

Draco sneered at his father's back as he turned around and began walking in the opposite direction, towards the towers.

"Oh, and Draco," his father started.

He stopped, but did not turn around.

"You better heed my words, boy.  I'm warning you."

Draco's head dropped as his blood boiled.

"Yes, _father_."  And with that, he stalked away from his father, feeling his disbelieving gaze on his back as he retreated.  Slipping into a small passageway that led quickly to the highest tower in the Manor, Draco began to think of how to get to the dungeons unnoticed.

_Brother my arse._

_*_

He stared at the underside of the canopy that sloped and curved over the posts of his bed.  His eyes followed the flowing black velvet fabric as it sagged lazily, watching the shadows flicker as it moved with the breeze from the open window.  The cold draft scratched across Draco's face, but he didn't flinch. He kept his eyes on the draped cloth.  He had never minded the cold.  In fact, most of the time he welcomed it.

He enjoyed the winter months more than he did the summer months.  The heat never treated him well, and the sun became a harsh mistress.  He, in turn, took pleasure in seeing the ground covered in cold frost, his breath billowing out in front of him in clouds.  The crackling of the fire lulled him to sleep most nights, giving him an air of comfort in familiarity.  

Sighing, he reaching into a pocket of his slacks and withdrew a switchblade knife.  Flicking it open, a twisted smile grew onto his face as the reflection of the setting sun shone into his eyes.  The pictures of medieval creatures etched into the metal pressed against his skin as he pondered his trip to the dungeons.  

"It must be someone important if father is so keen about keeping it guarded," he said out loud to no one.  His fingertips grazed the edge of the blade, the silver metal cold to his touch.  "And yet, he usually doesn't keep the contents of a cell secret from me, either."

He sat up suddenly, "Which means the people he's torturing must be very special to him," his eyes narrowed as the blade slid closer to his fingers, "or very important.  Someone he's believes is an enemy…" he trailed off.

"No," he said in response to his own thoughts, "he would have had them decimated by now."  He touched the tip, his thoughts colliding in his mind.  "Still," he pondered, still voicing his thoughts, "it would have to be someone with great significance… possibly," his thumb trailed down the back of the knife, "someone I'm familiar with." 

His mind was working ahead of him now.  "Potter," he said with disgust as the first person he believed legitimate flew from his mouth.  "That's impossible, though… not with Dumbledore holding his hand."  He was becoming frustrated very quickly.  "It must be someone I know."

The blade slowly dug into his skin, allowing a slow but steady stream of blood to ooze from the wound.  A sly smile spread over his face, "A simple invisibility spell and a Sleeping Draught ought to do the trick."

Well, what do you think?  I want to apologize again for this chapter taking so long… and I'm sorry there is nothing interesting here.  I am very sorry.  I will try and post the next chapter as quickly as possible, and it will be much more exciting.

And please review… let me know you guys are still out there!  Thanks

~Shorty


	9. Remiss

Hello everyone!  Sorry this one's late again as well… I apologize!  Please don't hate me.  I will continue updating, but I have a lot of things going on right now and I don't have any time to write!  Anyway, this chapter is a little short, but Draco appears again!  Doesn't that make you happy?

Oh well.  Read and enjoy!

Chapter 7

The sound of tinkling echoed down the drafty corridor.

Four eyes flickered towards the direction of the sound, blinked, and returned forward.

Draco cursed fluently under his breath. 

Reaching out tentatively for the vial that had slipped from his grasp, a shiver ran through him as the vial moved from his touch, though he couldn't see his hand.  As he slipped it into his pocket, the shimmer of the green liquid disappeared and it seemed to vanish.  He peered around the corner of the brick wall, though no one saw him.

He crept silently to the warlock's side, careful not to attract his attention.  Ever so slowly, he unscrewed the cap to his hipflask, and dribbled a small amount of the contained liquid through the nozzle, and screwed the cap back on.  He held his breath and slowly backed away, trying not to touch him so that he wouldn't attract any attention.  

He skulked closer to the second warlock, and almost made it to his side without a sound.  His shoe suddenly clicked on a sharp cobblestone, and he gasped loudly.  He swore the warlocks' eyes had flashed at him, as if he could see past his spell, but the warlock resumed his position and looked away.

Draco released the breath he had been holding and slowly prowled closer to the second warlock.  He proceeded to drop the potion slowly into the flask, and proceeded to tighten the cap on the nozzle.  Until his hand slipped. 

He wretched his hand away as the warlock's hand came suddenly quickly down to his flask, intent on capturing Draco's hand.  He flew back as the warlock's gnarled hand clawed out in the direction of the sound of Draco's movements, but Draco flew against a wall and stayed put, not allowing him any sound to follow.  

The warlock grunted, returning to his position, but never removing his eyes from the spot were Draco stood.  Finding his flask unscrewed, he took a drink, and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his cloak.  The other warlock followed his example, though he let the access water trickle down his carved face.

_Strong, but ignorant,_ Draco sighed, and was caught off guard as the warlock's eyes blinked and focused exactly at his face.

Draco's eyes widened and he started to breathe heavily, very frightened at the fact that he could be seen.  He looked down at his hands, and yelped, as the invisibility seemed to be melting off of them as the pale color of his skin appeared.  The second he looked up he was grabbed at the throat and held several feet up in the air.

The warlock bared his yellow teeth as he slammed Draco into the wall.  He felt his spine bruise and his conscious slip away slowly as the blood drained from his face.   His eyes rolled back in his head as his mouth gasped for the air his throat was unable to grasp, and he felt his mind slowly begin to shut down…

And he was unexpectedly released from his grasp and he fell to the floor in an indecorous heap wheezing for air.  He lifted his eyes only part way and found the warlock snoring at his feet, and only had time to gape fearfully as the second warlock lunged at him.  He ducked and covered his head, praying to Merlin that he didn't die …

He, too, fell to the floor, on top of the other warlock, snores ripping from his open mouth.

Draco closed his eyes and dropped his head against the wall behind him, discharging a mouthful of air.  

_I hope this isn't more trouble than it's worth._

He sat up and began to fumble with the cloth shrouding the warlocks until he produced a metal ring of keys.  They clanked and clattered against each other as he tried to find which one fit into the keyhole of the cell door he was trying to unlock.  Finally, he heard an affirmative click, twisted the handle, and yanked open the door.

He looked apprehensively around the door, afraid of what he might find.

Whatever he was expecting, this wasn't it.

"Oh, Circe…"

*

A tingling sensation began to run through the tips of her fingers and her toes, and she deemed it time to get her blood running through her skin again.

She sat up quickly, and soon regretted it.  The blood drained out of her head, and she cradled her forehead in her hands.  "Oh…" she sighed, rubbing her eyes, wishing silently the world would stop spinning.  Her head slowly began to clear as she felt movement to her left.  

Looking down, a small smile crossed her face.  Snape slept on, shivering softly.  She swept her own blankets over him, praying that he didn't shiver out of fever.  She placed a tender hand on his forehead, and sighed with relief.

"I suppose your body is healthy enough to heal itself; you don't seem to have a fever," she said to him, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.   She swept the strand of raven hair out of his face with a light touch, her eyes fluttering over his features.  He didn't look nearly as stressed now as he did when he was awake.  The lines melted back into his skin, and his expression was nowhere near angry or confused or frightened; all of which she had seen that day in Hogsmeade.  He seemed very… relaxed.

She suddenly wondered how many people had seen him asleep.  Maybe they wouldn't think him such an awful person if they knew it really was an act.  The question startled her somewhat, and she shook it away.  Why should she care?

A sudden screech of the door on the floor resonated around the chamber and it made Hermione jump.

She whipped her head towards the door and recoiled her hand swiftly, but not quick enough for the person on the other side of the door.

"Oh Circe…"

She barely caught a glimpse and she knew immediately who it was.  The pale tone of the skin, the cool, gray, transparent eyes, gleaming blonde hair.  "Malfoy!"  The door slowly began to pull closed; Malfoy's eyes grew wide with fear.  "No, Wait!"

She tried to jump to her feet, but she found herself stumbling towards the door instead of walking.  "Wait, please!"  she cried, her feet aching with the sudden weight as she slowly made her way faltering to the door.  "Don't leave!"

The door slammed as her fingers grazed the wood, and she fell upon the cool doorframe, tears streaming from her eyes.  "Please, Draco… don't leave yet!  Please help us!" she sobbed through the door.  

She could feel Draco slump himself against the other side of the door.  "Oh Merlin…"

"Professor Snape is very sick… they'll kill him if he doesn't get out of here soon.  I understand you hate me," he whimpered, "but don't take it out on him.  Please, bring him some food, Draco… he'll die…"

He buried his head in his arms.  "I can't, I can't…"

"Please…"

He leapt up from his seat as if fire had sprouted from under the door.  "I can't!" he shouted at the closed door, "I can't!"

Hermione fell down next to the door and cried openly into her arms.  "Oh Draco, please don't do this…"

But he hadn't heard her.  He quickly made a copy of the master key, dropped the key ring onto the warlock, and ran back down the drafty corridor.

Hermione jumped up out of frustration and ran back over to her makeshift bed, and sat down swiftly, lying down and curling herself into a ball, sobbing.  They had a chance to escape and Draco was being a bloody bastard!

Snape took a deep breath and began to stir behind her.  "Hermione?" he asked groggily, propping himself up on his good arm, "What's going on?"

She didn't reach out to find his hand and answer him, and he had to resort to touch to find her.  "Hermione?" he said more urgently, "Where are you?"

He extended an unsteady hand out slowly and made contact with the curls of her hair, and felt her body quiver and her chest heave as he touched her shoulder.  "Are you all right?  Why are you crying?"

She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down, and took his hand.  _I'm fine.  Homesick,_ she lied.  

 "We'll get out of this soon," he replied softly.

Hermione sighed, feeling very sorry for herself.  She wondered what Harry and Ron were doing at the present moment.  Probably sitting by the fire, playing chess, wondering what gifts they were going to receive for Christmas.  She wondered if they missed her, or if they had even noticed she wasn't there.

She knew they couldn't have forgotten about her just yet, and she also realized her current mentality was going to get her nowhere.  But as much as she tried, she couldn't help it.  She was steadily growing more and more tired of the cold draft that had settled into the room and the pounding of her head.  She groaned as pain shot through her stomach.  If she and Snape didn't eat soon, they would both die of starvation.  

"Oh Ron," she whispered, "if only you were here to bicker with…"

"Check."

Harry's eyes flickered up to Ron's face, but his face remained stationary, cradled in his hand.  He moved his king to another position as Ron surveyed the board.  "Hey, Ron," Harry started.

Ron moved his rook next to Harry's piece again.  "Check."  He shifted his legs and sat back in his armchair, "What?"

Harry moved his piece to accommodate to Ron's move again.  "Tell me why you bother asking me to play when you know you always win."

Ron moved again.  "Check."

"Why not save you time and me aggravation in just agreeing that you win automatically?"  Harry moved closer to a corner. 

Ron moved again.  "Check."

Harry placed his piece on a black square.  "Just a thought."

"Checkmate."  Ron's face grew triumphant for a second as he stretched his arms above his head.

Harry sighed and magicked the pieces back into the underside of the box.  "Gee, well, it's not like that's never happened before," he said sarcastically.

Ron smirked.  "Yes, well, I'm just a chess magician.  Can't fight with that."

"Obviously not."

"Hey, just because you don't understand the subtle art that is chess, doesn't mean you have to shun the rest of the world.  At least Hermione knew how to…"

Harry slowly looked up and found Ron staring dejectedly at the floor.  "Ron-" he started.

"Wish she was here," he said quietly, a small smile touching his face before he turned his head to focus on something else in the room to keep the tears from coming to his eyes.

"Ron, I-"

Ron looked mechanically at him, "You know, I'm going to go to the dorm for a while," he muttered, and began heading for the stairs.  "Come warn me when you're going down to dinner, all right?"

"I…" Harry trailed off, meaning to say something comforting, but nothing really came to mind.  "Alright."

He sighed as Ron walked away, magicking the pieces under the board to clean up.  _If only you could see him now, Hermione… You'd see how he never hated you…_

Draco slammed his bedroom door shut as a stream of curses issued from his mouth.  Of _course _it would be the _mudblood_!  How could he have been so stupid?

Of course his father wouldn't want him down there; Dumbledore had always seemed as if he questioned his father's loyalty.  The old professor might question him back at school, and quite possibly make Draco take a truth potion.  He wouldn't believe that Draco and seen one of his fellow classmates in the dungeon of his father's mansion and just failed to mention it to someone…

And Snape. He'd known for a while that his father had suspected him to be a spy.  His own father had warned him to stay away, unbeknownst to him that he was planning to take care of it later on.  Obviously by torturing him to death.

Granger was another story, though.  His father had only shown partial interest in her before now, asking how she faired with her grades, and how she had interacted with Draco.

Naturally, Draco had made her sound worse than she actually was, but said nothing horrible enough to get his father angry.  As far as Draco was concerned, there was no reason for his father to go after innocent people such as her.

"Damn," he muttered, slamming his hand on his dresser, watching as the objects upon it rattled.  

He knew that if Dumbledore discovered where Snape had been taken, he would have the Ministry of Magic at his father's door in no time.  His father had crafty ways of hiding things he didn't want the Ministry to find, but Draco doubted that he could find a way of concealing both Snape and Granger at the same time.    
            And what had Granger said?  Snape was sick?

He ran a hand nervously through his hair.  He wasn't sure how long they would survive, with one of them sick and both of them starved and dehydrated.  If they both died, whether from torture or sickness, his father had _no way_ of hiding anything of that extent.  

Draco sighed heavily and ceased his pacing for a moment.  There was only one thing that he could do to try and keep his father out of Azkaban.

He closed the door behind him as he left his chamber.

After relieving herself in the bathroom, Hermione sat and watched as Snape paced the small dungeon.  

Without food, both of their bodies were slowly losing energy.  She felt her body grow weaker, and prayed silently that her body would survive a little while longer.  The rage that she felt towards Draco she kept at a minimal level to keep from going insane.  She also pondered of ways to escape, all of them too bizarre to even consider.  Her mind didn't work as well without proper supply of food and water.  

"Hermione?"

Snape's hoarse voice interrupted her thoughts and startled her.

He had paused at a wall and leaned himself heavily against it.  She lifted herself off the floor and took his hand.  _What?_

He paused, as if considering what to say next.  "Are there any…" he hesitated, "facilities in this chamber?"

_Oh God, _she thought as her stomach dropped, _kill me now…_

Poor Hermione…  wish her luck everyone!  She's going to need it…

Hope you guys liked that one… I don't know what to think of it.

As always, review!  

~Shorty


	10. Memories of Home

This is extremely late… later than it's ever been before.  I apologize, if anyone is still reading.  I've been really busy and haven't had much time to do anything, besides write.  Sorry to all those I've kept waiting, if there are any still out there.

This is really short too, but I wanted a nice cliffhanger.  I know, you hate me now, but too bad.

Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than this one was.

Read and Review!

Chapter 8

 He climbed the ancient winding staircase to his father's study, and knocked quickly on the door.

"I'm very busy, please don't disturb me," came his father's curt reply.

He sighed and looked down at his shoes.  "It's me, father."

He heard his clawed chair's legs scrap against the wooden floor and his footsteps approaching the door.  It creaked open slightly, "What is it, Draco?"

Draco shifted his weight from one leg to the other, and tried to start conversation.  "Listen, father, I wanted to apologize."  

His father's stern face relaxed, and his expression became perplexed.  "For what, Draco?"

He tried not to look at his father's eyes, "For my attitude yesterday.  It was uncalled for.  I apologize."

His father's eyes softened and he gave a small smile.  "Now, Draco, do not dwell on the past.  I understand."

"Thank you, father."

He embraced him, and then drew back.  "I have work to accomplish, Draco.  If you'll excuse me."

The door closed once more. 

Draco smirked and journeyed back down the stairs, a gleeful smirk on his face as his hand remained clutched around a few gleaming white hairs. 

God, his father could be so gullible.

*

            Slowly but surely, she guided him carefully towards the tiny bathroom, one hand in his and the other on his back, making sure to tell him if there was any change in the floor.  He held a biting attitude towards her, not liking the fact that he had to depend on anyone but himself.  With her patience slowly diminishing, she pushed the door open and pulled him inside, directing his hands to the rim of the decrepit porcelain tub.

            _Here, _she told him, _do you want me to help you?_

            "May I remind you, Ms. Granger, that you still remain a student in my presence, despite the recent change in location?"

            She felt herself turn scarlet and was happy that Snape wasn't able to see her.  _I didn't mean to imply, what I meant was…_ she tried to explain quickly.  

            "I have been taking care of myself for many years, Ms. Granger, I'm sure I can manage to see that I use the bathroom by myself."  Feeling her make no move to leave, he spat, "Are you planning to stay and watch?" 

            She felt her blood boil and her cheeks burn for a second time that morning and stomped angrily from the small room and slammed the door behind her, not planning to help him after he had finished.  

            She stomped herself into the farthest corner from the small room and threw herself to the floor, feeling hunger pains start to filter her body.  She felt herself begin to cry, but tried to blink away the tears before they had the chance to make their way off of her eyelashes.  

            _It's just not _fair!  _As if Ron wasn't enough punishment before…_

            She buried her head in her arms as her hunger gnawed at the walls of her stomach and began to make their way up her spine.  She finally registered that she hadn't eaten in about two and a half days.  _Damn Draco,_ her mind spat angrily as her tears made another attempt at escaping.  _Damn him and his damn foolish pride-_

            She suddenly heard a commotion outside the door of the dungeon, and her eyes grew wide.  It could be Malfoy's father coming to take Snape and torture him again…

            She could only catch snippets of the conversation happening outside.

            "…Asked you here, and now… don't trust me?  I refuse to stand this password nonsense!"

            She crawled towards the door; eager to hear the parts she was missing.  

            "Let me remind you, Sir, that it was you who called for the use of a password," a warlock growled.

            She recognized Lucius Malfoy's voice.  "I don't believe your incompetence!  I could have you removed from my manor in a matter of seconds, and you are debating on who gave the command for a password?  I demand that you open this door before me at once, and get out of my sight!"

            She rapidly back away, stumbling over herself in her haste, and didn't manage to get anywhere.  The warlock sneered, and she heard the key slide into the door and click. 

            The door began to open, light pouring in from the hallway outside.  Before it could open completely, the person paused, "Well, what are waiting for?  Begone!"

            The warlocks' feet scuffled along the floor heavily as they trudged skeptically away from the door.

            Lucius continued to open the door now, his features cast in shadow as the daylight peeked in from behind him. 

            "Well, well," he scoffed, "what have we here?"  He smirked down at her, and swung the door closed behind him.  He walked slowly up to her as she tried to move away, but he caught her before she could move.  

            He crouched before her and grasped her chin in one powerful hand and pulled her face close to his.

            "Try not to be frightened, for some things are not as they seem," he said, reaching into his cloak with his other free hand.  

            She tried to withdraw from his tight grip and gave a troubled groan when he refused to let go. 

            "Hold still, I won't harm you.  I'm here to help you, though I have no idea why."

            She gave him an evil glare, "Why are you helping one of your own prisoners?"

            He smirked as he withdrew from his cloak a small parcel of leather cloth.  "Because you are not _my_ prisoner," he answered, placing the small bag in her trembling hands.  "Though I do enjoy watching you suffer."

            She looked up at him wide-eyed.  "Dra-!"

            He quickly covered her mouth his hand, and quickly cast an eye towards the door.  "Shh, the warlocks have ears all around the manor."

            "How-"

            "It's a simple potion.  Polyjuice.  Now hush, they will hear us."  He looked her sternly in the eye.  "Within that bag are small rations for the both of you.  I will visit periodically, but I might be caught, and therefore will have to find other means of reaching you.  How are you in Snape fairing?" he asked. "Do you need medical supplies?"

            "No," she whispered, "We're just starving.  This will help greatly.  Thank you."

            He seemed to be contemplating his next words.  "I," he trailed for a moment,  "I'm going to try and help you escape, but I can not say when.  I will come just as you see me now, so look to my right hand, I will be wearing this silver ring on my index finger," he held up a hand and showed her the simple band on his finger.   "If you do not see this, do not assume it is me.  It might very well be my father.  Understand?"

            "Yes."

            "Good.  They're coming back, I must go."

            With a sweep of his robes, he was on his feet and out the door.

            The door closed behind him.

            She didn't try to hear what he said next to the warlocks.  Her hand was already delving into the bag of food he had brought them.

            Snape appeared from behind the door of the bathroom, looking wary as he searched for her again.  She wasn't feeling particularly generous, and knew that she could punish him by not telling him that Draco had brought them food, but decided against it.

            She grasped his hand and pulled him to the floor with her, and he was about to scold her when she took his hand and began rapidly giving him an overview of what had just happened. 

            She shoved a biscuit into one of his hands and a flask of water into the other.  She inwardly wondered if he had poisoned the food and water, but realized he wouldn't have risked so much to come down here if he was going to kill them.  He probably would have just left it up to his father.

            Though she quickly began eating as her stomach happily began churning again, Snape slowly ate; ripping small, bite-sized pieces from his biscuit and placing them carefully in his mouth, as if he feared his body would reject the food.  She took another large bite while watching him with a contemplative expression.

            She finished her biscuit quickly and fished into the bag again, taking her flask and drinking deeply.  With a contented sigh, she watched as he slowly finished his meal, wondering if he was as ravenous as she had been.  

            It wasn't much, but the small about of food that he had given her seemed to ease her stomach, though only for a short while.  As her stomach slowly started to digest, pains began to run through her.  He couldn't have possibly poisoned the food.

            Could he?

            Snape had finally finished and began to stir beside her.  He reached out his hand in front of him as his eyes remained unfocused.  "Hermione?"

            She took his hand, though didn't say anything as she tried to ease her grumbling stomach.  She steadied herself with deep even breaths, leaning herself on her other arm as Snape tried to get her to answer him.

            "Hermione?  What's wrong?" he asked, his hand traveling up her arm to her shoulder, where he could picture her better.  

            _Stomach hurts_, she wrote quickly, moving closer to him to help him find her.

            He sighed, a smirk playing on his face.  It infuriated her that he seemed to know what was going on and she didn't, when it was her body in question.

            He drew her into something of an embrace, his arm comfortingly on her shoulder.  She felt somewhat surprised and confused by his randomness at giving her comfort, and felt strange to be so close to one of her elders.  

            "It's all right, Hermione," he said calmly, "they're only pains from being underfed.  You haven't eaten in such a long time it's taking your body more time to get used to the fact that you have food in your stomach.  Relax, and the pains will fade away soon enough."

            She exhaled heavily and, unconsciously, drew closer to him.  Though he was still Snape, a highly obnoxious and infuriating man, she needed to be consoled, and she would take it from anyone; even if it was from her hated Potion's Master.

            "Why the heavy sigh, Hermione?"

            She drew her knees up and rested her head upon her knee, wrapping her arms about her legs.  She took his hand, _miss Hogwarts; want to go home_.

            He placed a warm hand on her shoulder, "Yes, I do as well."

            She sighed pathetically again, leaning against his side, thinking of home.  Harry's face appeared in her mind and she couldn't help but smile.  She pictured his hair falling into his eyes as he flew on his broomstick, his eyes lighting up as he laughed, him blushing with embarrassment as he lost another game of chess to Ron.  She suddenly craved a hug from him, wishing she was back at Hogwarts.

            _Ron…_ her insides did a jump and twisted.  His freckles danced in her head a bit, his brown eyes and large nose and happy smile calling her back.  She imagined him joking with her on days where she found herself overworked, trying to find a smile or laugh in her.  She could see him throwing Quidditch balls back and forth with Harry, throwing snowballs at her, glaring at her as she made fun of him.  

            Her eyes began to sting and water as she saw herself coming back to Hogwarts, running to them as they stood waiting for her at the front gates.  She could feel the wind whip her hair as she jumped into their outstretched arms, and felt them crush her with gigantic hugs.  

            She unconsciously buried herself in the folds of Snape's cloak and snuggled closer to him.  She couldn't have Ron or Harry at the moment, so she had to settle for what she did have.

            "I want to apologize for snapping at you before," Snape said quietly, though Hermione could feel his voice echo sonorously through his chest as he spoke.  "My patience has worn thin with time and I fear that I lost my temper for no reason."

            _It's ok_, she answered, _I do it too_.

            Suddenly the huge door of the dungeon swung open, it's hinges screaming.  Hermione jumped and instinctively crawled into the corner farthest away, pulling Snape with her.  She could see the sun setting in the window across the corridor, the light streaming in, casting the figures in the doorway into silhouettes.  

            "Well, well, what have we here?"

            A man slowly stepped forward, though even when she could make out his features, she didn't recognize him.  His face was rough and angular, and his hair was fairly long and unruly.  It wasn't Lucius Malfoy, but his voice sounded oddly familiar.

            He took a step forward, his boots falling heavily on the uneven stones of the dungeon floor.  "The snake and his minx."  He circled them, eyeing Hermione carefully.  The other two figures remained in the doorway, watching and waiting.

            "I suppose Snape is ready for another beating.  He's had enough time to recover.  Bring him."

            Hermione felt her pulse quicken as her heart leapt into her throat.  Acting on impulse, she threw herself in front of Snape and pushed him further towards the corner.  "Haven't you hurt him enough?!" she cried.

            The man before glared at her viciously, and for a moment she feared he would come and strike her; instead, he threw back his head and released a deep laugh.  A biting, mocking laugh.  He chuckled as he stepped closer to her, and Hermione remained in front of Snape.  She could feel him grabbing at the back of her clothes, trying to get her attention, still not fully understand what was going on.  "Hermione, what-"

            "So you two are on a first name basis, now, eh?" said the man.  Hermione glowered at him, pressing a finger to Snape's lips to silence him.  He quickly hushed behind her, but still kept a hand on her shoulder to make sure he knew where she was.

            "I'm tired of these games.  Grab him and let's go."

            "No!" Hermione cried, moving onto her knees and throwing out her arms.  "You've taken his eyes and ears!  He has nothing left!  Leave him be!"

            "You think you can protect him?  You're only a child!"

            "Take me instead!" she cried shrilly out of instinct, tears of panic coming to her eyes, though they didn't fall.  "He's been punished enough!"

            The man paused his pacing, fixing his gaze upon her, contemplating.  

            "I suppose she'll do just fine.  Take her instead."

            Before she could think about what she had just suggested, the two other men swept her up from under the arm and carried her out the door.  She didn't have time to react, to think, to use the logic she was so known to love.  Panic over took her, and she tried to kick and scream, but she was weak and overpowered.  

            She heard the heavy door creak closed behind her, but before it closed completely, she heard Snape utter a horrid yell.

            "Hermione!" 

Well?  Still interesting?  Let me know!  Review!


	11. To Tame a Minx

Ok, real quickie, here.  Wrote it in one day.  I wanted to just get this part over with.  I have no idea where I'm going with this after this chapter.

Sorry about my poor plot.  I didn't want to write a torture scene, so I kinda worked around it.  Sorry if you wanted to see it.  

Anyway, really short.  Sorry.  I'll write more soon.  

Please, as always, review!

Chapter 9

As the door slowly swung closed behind her, the realization drew a sudden attack of panic upon her brain.  Her heart began to beat with fury; her palms began to sweat as they grasped at the garments that her captors wore.  She was unable to do any damage, for they were much larger and stronger than she was.  Her voice echoed shrilly through the drafty stone corridors, hoping someone, anyone, would hear her desperate pleas for help.  

The one man walked before her, the other two following, holding her between them.  Her arms were growing tired and were beginning to burn and ache with attempts at freeing herself, which were going no where.  

"Oh will you _please_ shut up?!" The one man before her whipped around to face her, at the same time swinging his arm at full force to come in contact with her cheek.  The back of his hand hit with a sickening crack, her head flew back as she gave a cry of disbelief.  Her body sagged in between the two men at her sides, her head hung towards the floor as tears of surprise and pain pattered against the stone. 

The man cracked a smile.  "Weren't expecting that, were you, minx?"  He paused, pondering her a moment as she looked up to him with hatred in her tired eyes.  They glistened before him, frizzy curls of hair hanging in front of her face.  He smirked a little, and then reached inside his robes for his wand.  "I suppose a change of attire will suit you."

"Don't you _dare_ touch my clothing," she spat, straining against the men that held her.

The man before her raised his eyebrows a bit.  "You surprise me with your empty threats, young minx," he said coolly, laughter in his eyes as he muttered a simple spell.  Threads of silver and emerald encircled her, twisting and tangling themselves until suddenly they clung to her and materialized.  She suddenly felt a chill as her garments were transformed into a revealing top and dress, which left most of her body to be seen by the world.

The cold, which had already manifested itself into her bones, was intensified, her breath coming in short gasps that appeared in front of her as it froze in the air.  Her chest was covered by only a small halter type shirt, which settled right above her midriff.  A skirt bottom hung to the floor in the front and back, exposing her hips and trembling legs.  Bumps appeared over her skin and she shivered, glaring at him with anger. 

"Better.  Shall we?"

Another wand wave and rope wound around her arms and feet, and the man took hold of them and yanked her forward, and she stumbled and fell.  She balanced unevenly on her side, and tried to stand up again.  "Pathetic," he bit out, tugging her towards him.  "You may go."

The two men behind her stalked off, obviously downcast that they were missing out on the fun.  He pulled her behind him, and she had to use the momentum of him pulling her to get back on her feet.  He pulled open the large carved door, revealing a large group of guests seated in several large, elegant chairs.  

Some of the guests were standing, engaged in conversation, others were seated and drinking and eating.  Mostly all of them were male, except for Malfoy's mother, who was walking around serving small finger foods to the men seated.  Her robes were flowing and elegant, nothing Hermione had ever seen the teachers at school wearing.  She would linger by some of the guests and talk or laugh with them, then walk on and greet the next.  

Malfoy's father was sitting towards the front of the room, deep in conversation with a few men, including Crabbe's father.  She spotted Goyle's father speaking with Draco not far from Lucius, though Draco looked less than pleased to be there.  

The man dragged her towards Lucius and pushed her to him, sending her sprawling onto the floor.  She let out a sudden cry, catching the attention of most of the inhabitants of the room.  She tried to stand, but only succeeded in falling again, her hair falling into her face.  

"I'm sorry, Lucius, but this prisoner insisted on me taking her up to see you."

She looked up to see Lucius smirking above her, an evil light in his eyes.  "Really?" he said mockingly, standing from his chair.  He walked slowly towards her and crouched, reaching out a hand to her.  "Precious, isn't she?"

He tried to touch her face but before he had the chance she snapped at him, barely catching one of his fingers.  He pulled back quickly, an astonished look of surprise on his face.  "Feisty, aren't we?"

He grabbed her ropes and pulled her up with a vicious pull, and she was thrown to her feet and almost fell forward.  She stood unsteadily and looked about her at the people surrounding her.  They laughed at her, they're faces cruel and malicious.  She tired to find an escape, a way out, but found that she had no control over anything.  She found Draco starring at her, torn between laughing at her with them and trying to help her.  She wished he could, but realized that he couldn't do much more than she could.  

"Who would like to try and tame her for the evening?" asked Lucius, holding out the ropes that held her arms and legs.

"_No_!" she cried, tears of overwhelming panic swelling in her eyes.  "You can't _do this_!"

Several men laughed and raised their hands, and Lucius' cackle bellowed in her ears as she screamed.  Draco's facial expression barely changed, and she feared he suddenly didn't care anymore.  "_Please_!" she cried in anguish, "Please let me _go_!"  Draco looked away, his eyes avoiding hers.  She fell to her knees and broke down, tears streaming down her face.  

"Who wants her first?"

* 

            Snape paced heavily around the small cell, not really sure of where the walls were, but knew that he hadn't run into any, so he must be somewhere in the middle.  

            It had been hours since something had happened within the cell, and Snape _still_ wasn't sure what exactly that was, but was sure that Hermione had been taken somewhere.  Where?  He had no idea.  Why?  Still a mystery.

            He just hoped that nothing terrible had happened.

            Albus would kill him.

            His stomach began to churn again with hunger.  He paused in his pacing and sighed, angry with himself for allowing himself to fall into this predicament.  He also damned himself for bringing Hermione down with him; though she did tend to get on his nerves, she had put up with him for longer than he had expected her to.  

            He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but he was afraid.  He feared that he would never see again, never hear again.  The fear of things he could not control made him feel panicked, anxious.  He wished he could see where he was, what was in front of him.  Instead, his world just lacked; it just didn't appear.  He wasn't sure where he was, what was happening to him; he couldn't defend himself even if he wanted to.  He felt frustrated, unhappy, and even more cranky than usual. 

            He would _murder_ Lucius Malfoy with his own bare hands if he _ever_ got out of here-

            He paused in his ponderings, feeling the floor softly vibrate beneath his feet.  Something, or someone, was moving.  

            A cold draft of air flowed through the room, and suddenly he realized: the door must be opening.  

            He was having trouble distinguishing which direction led to the door.  Suddenly he felt something fall at his feet and tumble into against his shins, which made him loose his balance for a moment.  He stumbled, and fell to his knees to determine what exactly had just hit him.

            He felt the floor quake again as the door closed.  He was at first unsure if he wanted to reach out and touch whatever it was before him; he wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was.

            Slowly, he extended a trembling hand out to the bundle of and unknown substance before him.  First, he didn't feel much, but slowly he felt something soft and wavy, slightly dry in feel.  He could feel his face frown, but reached down a little farther, and found that it felt strangely like… human hair.

            _Oh, Merlin, please don't let it be_… he reached out more, touching a shoulder, and a soft cheek.  The cloth was coarse, as if it was a winter garment meant to keep a body warm.  

            Jerkily he felt a hand quickly grasp his hand and stop him from moving any further.  The sudden movement threw him off and startled him, and he jumped and pulled swiftly away.  The hand lost contact, and he realized that the hand was small… like Hermione's hands.

            Realizing his mistake, he reached out urgently, trying to find her again.  "Hermione?" he asked hastily, and panicked when he didn't get a response.  "Please, Hermione, answer me."

            He felt skin brush against his hand, and he hurriedly grasped onto her outstretched hand.  He slid his fingers through hers, crawling back towards her, feeling helpless.  He couldn't even see her; how was he supposed to help her?

            "Where are you?  What's wrong?" he asked, his hand trailing up her arm and onto her shoulder, and he slowly pulled her to him.  He cradled her crumpled frame against his cloak, noticing how cool her skin felt against his.  "Are you hurt?"

            He slipped his arm underneath hers to get a better hold on her, but she squirmed in protest and felt her chest heave.  Her hand felt for his and she wrote slowly. _Don't touch_, she protested.

            "Why?" he said angrily, "What do you mean?"

            _Hurts_, she answered slowly, and he felt the fabric of his cloak moisten under her face.  She was crying, her tears dampening his clothing.

            "Oh, Hermione, I…" he hesitated, "What happened?"

            She seemed reluctant to tell him.  _Death Eater meeting_, she eventually answered. 

            He felt his own heart fall.  "What did they do to you?" he questioned, afraid of the answer.

            She didn't answer for a while.  She leaned against him, her small chest rising and falling unevenly as if it hurt to breath.  Her hands clutched as his cloak, unwilling to let go.  _Many things_.

            _Oh, Gods_.  He didn't know what to say.  "Oh, my child…"

            They sat for the rest of the night, and he rocked her slowly to sleep.

Aww, Snape's actually being affectionate for once.  I guess it's just easier for him now because he's been through the same kind of stuff.  Blah.

What do you think?  I want to hear from you!  Review!


	12. Soothing Heart

I don't think I'll ever be able to explain how incredibly sorry I am for making this so late.  To tell the truth, I have been busy, but for the most part I've just been forgetting about it when I _did _have time.  I hope you'll forgive me, and that most of you are still out there.

This chapter is pretty short and not that exciting, but the next chapter will hopefully be lots of fun, because it involves… well, I'll let you figure that out on your own.

  
Hope you enjoy.  Read and Review!

Chapter 10

Draco found his father at the front door, sharing a few words with the people leaving.  

"Father," he started.

He father merely waved him off, with an annoyed, "Not now, Draco," and continued conversing with the Death Eaters before him.  They had all stayed well past midnight, and were only now departing in the wee hours in the morning. 

"Father, I need to speak with you.  Now."

His father ushered the last of the members out of the door, slowly pulling it closed behind him.  "What is it, Draco?"

"Where did you get the Granger mudblood?" he asked, trying to keep his voice full of malice.  "I thought she was supposed to be staying at Hogwarts?"

His father seemed to lack interest in the subject, and turned and started down the hallway.  "That is none of your business, son," he answered.

"Where are you holding her?"

His father turned to him unexpectedly, and Draco stopped short behind him.  "You know not to ask such questions.   Her whereabouts are none of your concern."

"But-"

"It is late, Draco.  You should go on to bed."

He turned away from him with a disapproving sneer and continued on to another part of the house.

Draco fled from the hallway, traveling up the stairs towards his room.  This mind was racing, unable to handle all the information.  So now he didn't have to hide the knowledge of the prisoners from his father; his father knew he had seen her.  On the contrary, however, his father was now abusing them, making it harder for him to get them out unscathed.  The longer he waited to conceive a plan, the larger the chance grew that they would be injured; or worse, killed.  

He had to act.  Soon.

*

Snape wasn't sure when he had drifted off to sleep in the night, but when he awoke his back ached from leaning against a hard stone wall at an awkward angle for a long period of time.  He shifted with an anguished grunt, and it took a moment to realize he still had something in his arms.

The weight of something rather small became apparent as he moved, and he found that this something was curled into a ball in his hold and was breathing shallowly but rhythmically in his grasp.  It took him a moment to remember what had happened the last time he had been conscious.  He realized that Hermione had buried herself in his cloak, and though asleep was still clinging to him with one small hand rather desperately.  As he moved she took a deep breath and he feared he had forced her to wake, but she merely curled further into him and slept on.

He rocked her for a while, knowing he had little else to do, and couldn't get up even if he wanted to.  He was surprised that she hadn't pulled away from him the night before (he figured it had been the night, since their meetings were rarely held during the day; he couldn't tell either way, though).  He found himself questioning her silent trust in him.  Though he was cold and callous, she still seemed to place unquestionable faith in him and he could feel it as she rested peacefully in his hold. 

A sudden vibration in the floor halted his thoughts, and he suddenly felt himself holding Hermione possessively closer to him.  

"Who's there?"

No one answered, and he realized stupidly that even if they had, he wouldn't have heard them anyway.  

He didn't feel any change for a few moments, but then the floor shook again; the door must be closing, he figured.  No one had entered that he had felt, but suddenly he felt heavy footsteps marching over the floor.  He felt them gliding closer to them, and tried to shift into a more defensive position, but found it difficult to move at all with Hermione in his lap.  He just cradled her closer, hiding her face with his arm.  "What do you want?" he asked angrily, his eyes darting back and forth, trying to find something to focus on.

The person stopped, but Snape knew they must be right in front of him.  They didn't seem to be threatening to him, but one could never be sure.  

"Who are you?"

He felt someone take his hand; it wasn't threatening in any way, and seemed to be begging for his trust instead of trying to hurt him.  His arm was pulled towards the stranger, when a small object was placed in his hand.

It fit in his palm, and was flat.  It felt like a patch; he could feel the threads that were sewn in elaborate patterns across its face.  This patch was obviously something that described this person.  He tired to make out the design on the small patch.  There seemed to be a picture of something in the center, but it felt like the shape of a rope or coil.  Snape wasn't sure what this meant, and moved onto the letters embroidered at the top.  The first letter felt like something curled, possibly… an S.  Snape felt the next letter, and was sure it was an L, though he thought it could have been an E.  The next letter was definitely a Y, he was sure of it.  SEY… Nothing he knew of was spelled anything like that…possibly SLY… Slytherin?   It had to be a Hogwarts patch.  This person was a student at Hogwarts, and this patch came from their school robes.  

It had to be Draco.

"Draco," said Snape with relief, holding out the patch for him to take back.  

He felt the patch leave his grasp, but kept his hand outstretched.  "What are you doing here?" he asked, holding out his hand for Draco to answer him.  He didn't understand what was happening, however, when Draco didn't take his hand to respond.

* 

Hermione slowly began to surface out of unconsciousness, but only very timidly.  First her brain began to process her surroundings, but she remained half asleep and didn't make a move to get up.  She allowed herself to carefully come out of hibernation, and didn't force her brain to move any faster than it wanted to.

First her brain registered the warmth that spread through her.  Instead of the usual coldness she woke to most, her body was enveloped in tender, wonderful, glorious heat.  She curled further into herself, snuggling into the fabric she was sleeping against.  She felt a strong yet soft body move underneath her hand.  A steady, pulsing heartbeat thundered against her ear.  It calmed her and made her feel sheltered and safe, as did the arms that encircled her and supported her.  It had been a while since she had felt so protected; so secure.  Never had anything as simple as the beating of a heart soothed her the way this did.  

One arm that had supported her let go, and reached out in front of the body.  She was becoming more awake now; things were beginning to make more sense.  She became aware that the body she was cradled against was Snape; she cracked her eyes open slightly and realized that he was reaching out to Draco, who sat crouched before them.  

He had brought with him another sack of food. He was, however, having some difficultly communicating with Snape.  She realized she had to move and show him.

She shifted against Snape slowly, her muscles still sore and screaming in protest of her getting up.  Snape was startled by her suddenly movement, and tried to hold her against him in surprise.  

She gave a soft groan of protest as he tired to keep her from moving, pressing into her bruised body.  Draco looked to her in alarm, and then noticed she had finally awoken.  _It's alright_, she told Snape, taking his hand.  Draco looked on, an amused expression on his face as he watched her write into his hand.  "What on earth are you doing?" he said mockingly. 

"He can't hear you," she answered, and was surprised to find her voice so hoarse.  "You have to write in his hand, as if with a quill."  She took Snape's hand and held it out to Draco.  "Here, talk to him.  He knows it's you."

Draco accepted the hand that was offered to him timidly, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with it.  "He can tell what I'm _writing_?" he said skeptically, a sneer settling on his face.  "What is this, that muggle gesture-language?"

"It's called sign-language, fool," she replied bitterly, "and that's only for people who are just deaf, not also blind.  He can't see, either, incase you couldn't tell.  He wouldn't be able to use it."

Draco looked up at Snape's face, though his expression held no amusement or contempt.  "He's blind… and deaf?" he muttered, looking at his mentor with pity.

"Yes, but he's not stupid, and he's expecting you to say something to him."

He looked down at Snape's hand that reached out to him, expecting a message.

            "What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell him why you're here."

Draco hesitated, but slowly began to write into Snape's hand.  _Food_, he stated dumbly, finding that he felt rather foolish to be speaking to his teacher this way.  Snape seemed to understand, though, and looked more relaxed as he realized he was about to eat for the first time in a little less than twenty-four hours.  

"Now what?" sneered Draco.

Hermione glared at him, "Why don't you give it to him?" 

Draco heaved the bag into Snape's hands as Hermione slid out of his lap and onto the stone floor.  She helped him open the bag and handed him a small biscuit, unscrewing the cap on the flask for him.  Draco watched, taking note of the bruises and cuts covering her skin.  "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, sounding spiteful.

She took a biscuit, eyeing him hatefully.  "You would know," she said scathingly, "_You_ were there."

Draco became defensive almost instantly.  "And what exactly is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Her eyes watered with hot tears, "You just watched it happen!  You didn't try to stop your father or that other dirty man!"  She wiped her eyes angrily.

"And what was I _supposed _to do?" Draco spat.  "If I had said anything I would have blown my cover completely!"

"You still could have done _something_!" cried Hermione brokenly.  "_Anything_ would have been better than letting that man have his way!"

Lacking a better vent for her emotions, she broke down and sobbed heavily into her tattered robes.  Draco watched her without moving, torn between anger, resentment, and pity.  Though he could never really feel compassion for her, he had seen the awful things that had gone on during his father's meetings.  A burning anger coursed in the pit of his intestines, knowing that she was blaming him for what had happened to her.  But back in his mind he knew he couldn't blame her for her threats; they were all empty.  She knew it wasn't his fault; she just needed someone to throw all the blame on so that she could find peace in herself.  He tried not to take it personally.

Draco hesitated for a moment, unable to think of anything to say.  He didn't even know how to begin to comfort her, even though he really didn't want to.  Snape could obviously tell she was upset, and was trying to get her attention.  She wouldn't take his hand, clearly not wanting to explain.

"It must have been awful."

Hermione relaxed at his words and sniffed, looking out over her arms at the opposite wall.  "Awful doesn't even begin to describe it."

He didn't know how to respond to that.  He looked away, quietly thinking as Hermione again ventured into the bag and pulled out more food condiments.  

"How much longer do you think you two can last in here?" Draco ventured after a long silence.

"Well," said Hermione slowly through a mouthful of biscuit, "We'll have to survive as long as it takes.  How long has it been since the last meeting?"

"Two days.  They'll be holding another one tonight."

Draco stared off into space as he pondered, cradling his head in his arms.  

"What if I was able to get you out tonight?"

Oooo… Another awful cliffhanger.  I know, I deserve to be beaten over the head.  Sorry.  

Read and Review!  As always.  


	13. I'll Take Her

Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.  It would be useless to sue, because I have no money.

First, I would like to apologize (for the eighty-millionth time) for taking so long to update.  My life has been very hectic lately, with junior year and SATs and tests and AP classes… it's been very stressful.  I haven't had much time to sleep, much less write.  I'm sorry for all of you that I have disappointed, and I hope you can forgive me.  This chapter is fairly short and not beta-corrected, so I hope it's enough for a while.

**WARNING:  This chapter is slightly graphic and contains slight implied sexual content.  If that offends any of you, I'm sorry.  Take this as fair warning**.

Draco's eyes swept slowly over the room, taking in all the images around him.  He lounged lazily in a large chair in a corner by himself, a less-than-pleased expression settled on his face. 

He watched as his father's colleagues and fellow members chatted nonchalantly around the room, as if they were attending a simple, elegant dinner party.  Some sat at the delicately decorated table (set by his detail-obsessive mother), sipping chardonnay or wine, and speaking in hushed tones.  Draco sipped is own whiskey, which his own father had given him.  He sat quietly, surveying his surroundings, catching only snippets of the conversations around him.  He eyed each person carefully.  _This one's sister just had a baby boy, possibly when he's old enough he'll join… Another thinks they'll raise a rank soon… Another speaks his undercover excursions in obnoxious detail…_

He stood and made his way to a more secluded area of the room, where he could watch shrouded in shadow.  No one had noticed he was there, and he was perfectly fine with being excluded from the conversations.  Somewhere in the background of noise, he heard the old clock strike two.  

_Time to get this party started._

Sure enough, as he looked towards the door, his father's minions pulled her in.  Bound by the hands and with a chain attached to each ankle, she had trouble walking.  She stumbled and fell to the floor, crying out in pain.  The men dragged her further in, and his father walked over to the scene. 

"I have a little surprise for you all," he said, yanking her to her feet.  She uttered a cry of surprise, and sagged against the wall in weakness.  "This young minx will be presented again for tonight, if any of you are willing to have her." He grabbed her face with a sneer and sniggered, "I'm sure she'll be more than happy to give."

Draco watched and saw her eyes fill with fearful tears. 

Several of the men seated around the room laughed, and a few rose to take the over.  They called over to his father, offering money or sentiments for the prize.  "I'll take her, Lucius," one called maliciously, and he saw her loose heart and start crying as she sank to the floor.  "I'm all for a night of fun."

"No, Lucius, I want her for tonight," said another from the other side of the room, beckoning to him with a waving of his hand, "I'd like to take her to my room for once-"

Draco finally stood.

"Father, I'd like to have her."

The noise and laughter in the room suddenly ceased.  Draco looked to his son with surprise, and the other suitors turned to regard him with jealously and a sneer.

"You, Draco?" his father asked with astonishment, "I have never seen you partake in these activities before.  Wasn't it you that stated it was not time for you yet-"

"Yes, well, everyone changes their mind once and a while."

She looked at him in shock and anguish.  He had been unable to tell her of his plan when they had last met, not knowing of a plan of action himself.  He had derived the idea merely hours ago, and he could sense the malice and hatred radiating off of her at the present moment.  Feeling betrayed and most likely humiliated beyond belief because a fellow classmate was about to use her, she sat dumbfounded by the wall and refused to move.

His father regarded him with a look of disbelief as well, but suddenly his face broke into a grin.  "Finally, you have come to your senses, my son," he said, walking away from her and patting with a fatherly hand on the back.  "You have finally decided to try to become a member?"

Draco was afraid that he would ask this.  He had spend much time brooding over this decision; in truth, he knew it was his father's wish to become a Death Eater, but he was unsure if he could handle it.  He wanted to please his father, and was leaning towards it slightly, but had been unable to give him an answer yet.

"Yes," he said after an awkward pause, "I have."

His father laughed and embraced him, "You have made a good choice, Draco," he said into his ear, "I am very proud of you."

Draco felt the pride inside him swell, and embraced his father back.  "I'm glad you accept me, father."

"Of course, my son," he said, taking a step back and presenting Draco to the room of people, "My son has decided to join our ranks!"

His fellow member's cheered, raising their glasses.  Draco grinned, happy to finally please his father, and forgetting slightly the plan he was about to put into action.  

"Here, you may have her for tonight," stated his father, dragging his son over to where she sat, anger and resentment in her eyes.  His father turned to him, looking him in the eye.  "A word of caution; I hear she's a bit… aggressive, so be careful.  And be aware to perform a spell to keep her quiet once you have finished, or else she might possibly tell someone."

"I will, father," he stated, looking at her as she breathed heavily on the floor next to his feet, "I'll manage."

His father handed him the ropes and chains that held her feet and hands.  "She's yours now, to do with what you will," his father stated, "Just try not to make too much noise."

The company laughed, and Draco allowed himself to snicker.  She looked up at him in contempt, sniffling as tears coursed down her cheeks.  He gave her chains a yank, and she fell onto her face.  The people around her laughed, and she tried feebly to get to her knees.  Draco gave her chains another pull and managed to get her to stand.  She pulled feebly against her captor, but was unable to speak because of a gag.  He tried to tell her with his eyes that he wouldn't harm her, but she was unable to understand.  Instead, he continued to act and pulled her along, out of the room, and up the stairs.  Every now and then she would try and fight against him, but was unable to because of weakness and fatigue.  His father followed slowly behind, making sure she wouldn't try and attack him.  

He managed to pull her to an empty bedchamber, and threw her into the room.  He hadn't wanted to harm her, but with his father's ever-watchful eye upon him, he had no choice.  He saw her strain against him in torment, falling upon her side awkwardly.  

"Don't worry, Mudblood.  You'll have your fun yet."

            She closed her eyes against him, and tried to curl into a protective ball.  She was unable to, however, well Draco yanked on the chains and sent her flailing into the side of the bed.  She again sank to the floor.  

            "Come on.  Do not fight me."

            He threw her onto the bed as his father remained leaning against the doorframe.  Keeping up the act he had going, he crawled onto the bed, pulling her roughly towards him.  "You will face me when I am speaking to you!" he yelled into her face, spiting as he spoke.  She was crying openly now, shaking with suppressed fear and sobs.  

            He heard his father snigger from the doorway, and he finally turned to him.  "Father, please," he said, turning away from her trembling frame, "give me some privacy.  I promise to return her to you when I have finished."  He turned back to her, but his father refused to move. 

            "I want to make sure you know what you are doing first," he said, crossing his arms leisurely as his back remained leaning against the doorframe, "they sometimes put up a fight."

            Draco, displeased that he would have to act more than he wished, threw her down and began to remove her shirt.  He pleaded with his eyes, begging her to understand.  _I do not wish to harm you, Hermione_.  "I assure you, father.  I can handle it."  

            His father still in the doorway, he was forced to begin to touch her.  _Gods, I can't do this much longer._  "Please, father," he said, as she struggled weakly against his fake caresses, "Grant me some peace."

            His father sighed, but conceded.  "Alright, son," he said, grabbing the handle to the door, "I'll leave you to it.  If you need any assistance, be sure to call," he said, but still remained at the door.  

            _Merlin, what to I have to **do** to get this man to **leave**?  _He chose to start unbuttoning his pants, showing his father that he was about to get underway.  "Alright, father," he said, standing, "I can take it from here."

            She shook uncontrollably on the bed beneath him. 

            With one last look in the room, his father left, shutting the door behind him.

            Draco grabbed his wand from his cloak that he had placed on a nearby chair and performed several locking spells.  He walked towards the door, and listened for his father's descending footsteps.  He sighed in relief, refastening his pants and walking back to the bed.  

            Hermione had turned to the side, trying to hide herself from him.  He looked at her with pity, and realized he had probably frightened her more than he had wanted to.  

            "Hermione, it's alright," he started, trying to reach out to touch her, "I'm not going to harm you-"

            She pulled roughly away from him, curling further into herself.  He noticed she was still bound.  "I'll free you, if that's what you want," he said, raising his wand, and not knowing what else to say.  

            He undid her gag.  "There," he said, "Does that prove it to you?"

            "Get away from me, you dirty bastard!" he cried, riddled with grief.  "You liar!"

            Though he knew why he she was upset, but he was still defensive.  "I'm here to help you, you ungrateful Mudblood!"  he yelled at her, and then realized his father could possibly hear him.  "I'm trying to free you!"

            "By raping me first?" she cried in response, "I thought I could trust you!" she bawled between uncontrolled sobs, then spoke no more.

            "How else was I to get my father to let me have you alone?"  he replied in anger, "I had to act like it was something else!  I had no time to tell you of the plan!"

            "You didn't have to try and kill me on the way up the stairs!" she cried.  "And you practically broke my arm!"

            "Well excuse me for trying to make it seem real to my father!"

            "Your acting was too real!"

            It finally occurred to him that she was shirtless, he had just accepted her for a night of implied sex, and she had had no idea that it was all an act.

            "Hermione, I'm sorry," he started, trying to explain.  "I was just trying to get you out of there before someone else took you."

            He undid the ropes and chains, and handed back her shirt.  She was still upset, but her crying had slowed and she began to calm.  "This was seriously all an act?"

            He scowled at her as she put on her small shirt, "You seriously think I'd have my way with _you_?"

            "Well thank you for your compliments," she bit back scathingly.  She rubbed her wrists where the chains had bound her, soothing the red marks and scratches.  

            Draco looked at them, but refused to apologize.  He'd just saved her life, hadn't he?  "Well let's get a move on then, we don't have much time.  We have to get to the dungeons."  

            "What?"

            He took her hand and pulled her off the bed, then walked over to a blank wall.  "We have to get Snape before my father comes back and suspects something."  

            Finding a small notch in the wall, he pulled open a hidden passage near the bookcase.  "My father will be expecting to hear noises," he muttered to himself, slowly trying to devise a plan.  He settled on one idea, and brandished his wand.  He enchanted one flower vase to moan, a cup to scream, and magicked the bed so that it bounced and made banging noises a little.  "This will only give us about half an hour, and hour at the max," he replied as Hermione smirked.  He pulled her next to him, and proceeded into the unlit corridor.

            "_Alohomora_," he muttered under his breath.  The corridor burst in front of their eyes, cobwebs and crawling things fleeing into the cracks.  

            He breathed a deep breath, preparing himself for what he had to do.  

            "Let's go."

Author's Note:  I'm sorry it's kind of short.  I have little time to write, and as it is, I should probably be studying.  As of now, you may notice that my style has changed slightly; I'm not sure if it has or not, but my writing has undergone serious change with my new classes.  I'm sorry if this seems different to anyone, but I can't help it.

I have no idea when the next chapter will come out.  It may be a long time in between updates.  I apologize in advance.


	14. Homeward Bound

Author's note:  Ok.  First, I would like to apologize the mix up this chapter posed at first.  It should be fixed now, with the loading of this new and improved chapter.  Sorry for the mess.  The chapter that was originally in this spot was just a place holder, because I couldn't delete it.  It wasn't supposed to be formatted or read, so just ignore it.

Secondly, I would like to explain about the characters in previous chapters.  I KNOW THEY'RE THERE.  I AM AWARE OF THE PROBLEM.  _Please_ stop leaving reviews about them.  I APOLOGIZE FOR THEM.  I don't want to leave them there, but it will take me a long time to replace all of them and repost.  I'm sorry for the inconvenience.  

Thirdly, I will try and post more often, because I am finding that this story is moving rather quickly now, and will only take a few more chapters to finish.  Please keep checking for more posts. 

Thank you for reading.  Enjoy.

Chapter 12

The passageways leading down to the dungeons were confined and cramped, and Hermione had trouble keeping up with Draco, who apparently knew the way like the back of his hand.  She stumbled over the uneven stone floor, though she tried to keep away from the dusty, disgusting walls.  Draco continually told her to keep up, though she found it hard. 

As they traveled down several flights of stairs, she felt the air around her grow cold.  Drafts seemed to flow from unseen cracks in the walls, and she felt goose bumps prickle her arms.

"Are we almost there yet?"  she whined, her teeth beginning to chatter.  

"Quiet, or someone will hear you," he spat back, following the wall with his hands.

Slowly he stopped before a large wooden wall that blocked their path.  

"This is it?" Hermione laughed sarcastically.  "You lead us through a blocked passage?"

"Will you refrain from insulting me before you know what you're talking about?"  

He suddenly stopped moving, and appeared to be listening for something.  Hermione tried to get his attention to ask him what he was doing, but he quickly silenced her and continued to walk forward, his ear facing the wall.  He placed his face against the wall.

"What is it?" said Hermione finally.

"There's someone yelling in the dungeon," he whispered.  "It sounds like my father."

Hermione's concern grew.  "What is he yelling about?"

Draco continued to listen, his brow furrowing.  "I'm not sure," he said, "the wall is making his words muffled." 

Draco jumped.  "He's hit something, and it's slammed into the wall."  He continued to keep an ear pressed to the cold wooden surface.  "Someone's in pain."

"It's Snape," said Hermione, drawing closer to him.

"Shh."  He waved her silent with his hand.  He heard his father beating Snape over and over again, but refrained from saying anything that would upset Hermione into giving away their position.  

The floor began to vibrate.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"The door is closing," he replied, "I think they're leaving."

He slowly withdrew his wand from his cloak, and held it steadily at his side.  "Now, on my mark, we'll go in, and we'll probably meet up with the guards," he told her.  "You don't have you're wand, do you?"

She shook her head no.

"Then I'll have to stun them."

He took a step back from the wall, facing it with his wand arm outstretched.  "You may want to stand back and brace yourself."

He slowly muttered a spell underneath his breath, and as soon as he did, the seemingly stable wall was blown forward with a deafening bang. 

Hermione cried out with surprise and shock and fell back, shielding her face with her arm.  Draco remained standing, but guarded his face as well.

He entered the small dungeon, with which Hermione had become all too familiar.

She saw Snape, lying on his side, supporting his weight on one arm.  He grimaced with an ugly frown as he tried to raise himself, but also tried to find out what the source of the loud, earth-shaking bang was from.  

"Who's there?" he yelled, and Hermione had noticed that some of the inflection of his voice was gone.  She ran to him, just as Draco entered the room.

The door to the dungeon began to slide open.  

"Draco, the door!"

He ran to the door, flattening himself against the doorway so that the intruders would not notice his presence.  As the door creaked open with the heavy weight, he heard the guards yelling from the outside.

"Who's in there?"

Draco took a deep breath, and as they entered and spotted Hermione and Snape, their attention remained drawn away from him.

Unguarded, he was able to use a simple spell to disarm them.

"_Stupefy_!"

The guards fell to the floor slowly, first falling to their knees, and then landing face first on the floor.

"Did you have to yell my name?!" Draco spat, "They could have heard you!"

"I'm sorry!" retorted Hermione as she helped Snape into a sitting position.  "I wasn't thinking!"

"Obviously," muttered Draco.  

Hermione swept the hair out of Snape's face as his breathing slowed to a near-normal pace.

"Hermione?"

_Yes, _she answered_, I'm here._

"Are you alright?" he asked with trouble.

_You first_, she answered. 

"I'll be fine," he answered, though a stream of blood was gushing down his face, and blood was smeared on the floor where he had landed.

_Draco help get out_, she wrote in short hand, hoping he would understand.  

"Now?"

_Yes._

Draco crept to another wall, fingering the stones carefully.  

"If you've known this whole time that that door was there, how come you had to disguise yourself instead of just coming through the passage?" asked Hermione as Draco unmasked another hidden passage by blowing it to bits.

"It makes to much noise," he explained.  "I didn't have a plan to get you out yet.  I had to wait."

Hermione accepted this explanation and helped Snape to his feet.

"Where are we going?" he asked, again with less inflection of his voice.  

_Home_, she answered, and was surprised at the sense of hope and joy the simple work brought her. 

Draco peered into the dark corridor, and turned back to them as Hermione directed Snape over to the door, an arm around his waist, the other hand holding his to keep him from falling.

"This isn't going to be easy," Draco said, eyeing Snape skeptically.

"I would fight anything to get home again," answered Hermione.

Draco hesitated a moment, then sighed.

"Well then, let's get moving."

*

After a slow and rocky start, Hermione was able to get Snape through the corridors.  Draco followed in the lead, his wand alit from a spell, guiding the way quickly.  At times, Hermione had trouble keeping up because of the uneven floor kept Snape from traveling quickly.

At last they reached the end if the passage, which led into a small room.

It was not unlike the room that Draco and Hermione had started, in but it was not the same room.  Though the furniture was exactly the same, they were in different positions.  

"This room is at the very end of the East Hall," Draco explained.  "To get out of here, we're going to have to go to this room," he brandished a map from his pocket, spreading it out on the small desk to show her, "in the South Wing.  This will be quite a journey, because the meeting which you just witnessed," he drew his finger elegantly down the paper, "is right here in the East Hall.  We'll have to pass it to get out.  We might get caught."

Hermione studied the paper for a moment, and then looked up at him.  "It's a chance we're just going to have to take."

Very short.  Please R&R.


	15. Drums

Wow.

I'm sorry to say that I haven't really thought about this story in a while, and I've just recently started writing again. I'm very sorry. I promise I'll finish it; when, exactly, I can't say, but I hate to leave things unfinished.

Anyway, my _hugest_ apologies to all those people who reviewed with wonderful comments and corrections for me. I'm sorry I've been so slow to reward you.

And now, on with the show.

Chapter 13

Lucius Malfoy smirked coyly from his position lounging in an armchair towards the back of the room, swirling his cognac in his glass. The strong liquid churned with intrigue, and Lucius felt himself slowly becoming intoxicated; the feeling, however, couldn't mask his absolute surprise and elation at his son's previous actions.

_The boy won't disappoint me after all_, he said with a small twitch of emotion on his lips, his eyes trailing over to his wife. She sat, happily surrounded with his fellow members, drinking in the attention and enjoying playing hostess for the inebriate men. Half of them were beyond the point of remembering any of their actions during the night, and he allowed himself to ponder the way her face lit up when she laughed. She stood, slowly making her way across the room towards him. Her eyes would sometimes linger on his for a small second, and then follow over to the man in front of her, whom she would whisper to and smile as she removed the wine glass from his hand. He would laugh, and she would continue on, making sure to reach the most intoxicated ones first. She was a beautiful prize, though her mind often left him feeling disappointed. She had a biting wit and a sharp tongue, but she had one weakness; pity. For her enemies, she was able to hide it. But when it came to Draco, she couldn't hold it back.

_"Don't force him to make a decision at such a young age,"_ she would beg him, _"He doesn't know what he wants yet."_ Though she supported Lucius' membership, she feared for her son. She knew he wasn't as strong willed; she feared what the Dark Lord would do to him if he should fail. Not that she doubted his capabilities; she simply didn't want to see him suffer.

_But it seems he is able to make his own decisions_.

She finally made it over to him, and sat delicately on his leg, her satin dress shining even in the dim light of the room. Smoke filtered across her face, the candles around them slowly burning out. The party was slowly drawing to a close, and the men were beginning to shuffle out in small groups.

"Enjoying yourself, darling?"

She smiled lusciously, grinning white glimmering teeth. "Not half as much as I will later," she whispered, leaning in closer to him so that no one could hear.

It was his turn to grin, looking up to her, cocking his head. "Oh, really?" He enjoyed her playing games. He could tell he was slowly sinking into the alcohol as it warmed his blood. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

"I'm sure I could think of a couple things," she said, her hair creating a wave as it fell from her shoulder. She leaned in for a kiss.

He breathed in her sent, her sweet perfume. He noticed that at least half of the room had emptied, and now it was only a few groups left in little huddles. These were the hard-core Death Eaters, and could stay until the early morning. He wasn't sure if he wanted them to stay that long; his wife was surely more enticing than any conversation he could stir up with them.

Suddenly a something fluttered in the corner of his eye in the open doorway. He snapped his eyes open, realizing what it was. He turned quickly towards the door, his wife quickly sensing his unease and begging him to tell her.

"What, Lucius?" she asked, "What's wrong?"

He rose to his feet, his wife emitting a cry as she was forced to stand as well.

He glared at her sternly.

"Stay here."

Stiffly he marched towards the door, not caring who saw him. He felt his blood boil, quickly rising in temperature.

His son was going to have some _intense_ explaining to do.

Draco sped down the hall, not entirely feeling secure. He was sure that someone was bound to have seen them.

"Come _on_, you two, I don't have all _day_!" he spat, winding down a flight of stairs, sensing that his professor and his student were slowly growing further and further away.

"We're _trying_, Draco!" Hermione whined, her voice rising to a cracking pitch. "He can't help it. He can't even _see_."

"Then be his _eyes_, dammit! We don't have time for this!"

"Don't have time for what, exactly?"

Draco froze. For a second, his mind refused to work, and his body complied and remained locked as Hermione dragged Snape up along side him. Draco felt himself swallow, tentatively keeping down the bile that was rising from his stomach. Hermione turned around slowly, but Draco didn't dare look at her. She gasped in surprise and immense fear. She whimpered, "Draco…"

He dared a glace over his shoulder. He released a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. He turned slowly to meet the owner of the phantom voice, and shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. "Father."

His father's gaze was calm and collected, and he stood reclining against a statue that he hadn't even noticed they'd passed. His lips curled into an ironic smirk, but Draco could tell behind his eyes, he was furious. "So _this_ is why you took such keen interest in the young girl today, my son." He stood and started walking slowly, languidly, towards them. Draco could tell his father was slightly intoxicated, though not to the point of drunkenness. Still, his father wasn't one known to hold his liquor well.

"Father, I- I can explain-"

"Explain what, pray tell? That you sneak past my guards, damage my home, _lie_ to my face just to save these _bastards_!" His father was crimson in the face and spitting now. "You were always the one to be the hero, weren't you, Draco? Couldn't settle for anything but center stage!" He continued meandering towards them, his hand in the pocket of his cloak. "To think I trusted you! That you had finally come round and changed!"

"Please, father-"

His father was becoming dramatic in his smashed rage. He closed his eyes and swayed to the side, the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh _please_, father, don't _punish me! _I was only trying to be _good_!" he whined, imitating his hyperventilating son. "Don't try and pull that with me, _son_!" He said, whipping out his wand. In the other hand, he held a knife.

Hermione let out a strangled cry and Draco took a frightened step back. "Run," he murmured, and turned around to face her and Snape. She looked at him with a bewildered look on her face. "_Run_!"

Hermione quickly tugged Snape's hand, which almost sent him flying onto the floor, but he understood her gestures and started sprinting, never letting go of her hand. Draco led the way, taking a daring left and hoping that no one was in the hallways. Hermione had trouble keeping up with him, especially with Snape dragging her down. "Draco, what do we _do_?" she whined.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking…" His father was quickly gaining on him, and he'd lost the train of thought that he had had before. Where exactly had he planned to take them?

His father called down the hall to a few of his Death-Eater friends, and they now had at least three armed, fully grown men on their heels. There was little time before his father would begin hexing them into next year. Even if Draco was his own son.

Well, he was screwed now. Why not just make it worse?

He spun around, nearly knocking into Snape in the process. He brandished his wand, and held it out before him. He tried to remember the spells he had just recently learned. He never imagined he would have to use them on his father.

There was no turning back now. Both Hermione and Snape were unarmed, and there was little he could do, but he had to do something.

"I'm sorry, father."

"_Stupefy_!"

Draco was flung off of his feet, landing on his back with a sickening thud and a sigh of pain. Hermione shrieked and fell to her knees next to him, trying to get him to wake up. "Draco, _Draco_!"

She grabbed hold of his cloaked and yanked, feeling overwhelmingly helpless without her wand. Draco's lay to his side, with in arm's length of her. She reached out, but cried out in anguish as Malfoy jammed her hand with his heavy, leather boot. He turned his leg so that her skin twisted and pulled under his foot, and she gritted her teeth against the pain.

He grabbed her by the neck, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she could no longer breathe. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed over from lack of oxygen, and he sneered at her. He enjoyed the feeling of superior power over her, and deciding whether or not she lived or died.

"I'll teach you to brainwash my son, you dirty mudblood!"

He released her, but reached back and swung his hand back at full force, his palm connecting with her face with a nauseating crack. She recoiled away from him with a cry of pain, blood dripping from her fingertips as she tried to cover her face.

Draco stirred next to him, and he turned his attention to his son. Snape was still trying to find Hermione. He called her name, searching the floor with his hands.

"Ms. Granger!" he hissed, unaware that Malfoy could hear him anyway. "Please… _Hermione-_"

His cohorts moved in, watching Malfoy take out his opponents with ease.

He looked back to them, "Leave my son. You can do as you wish with the girl."

She started, glaring at him with no intention of trying to hide her hatred for him. It was written clearly on her face.

"I'll take care of Severus."

Hermione began to protest, but the men soon swept in on her.

"No!"

She screamed as one grabbed her under the arms and dragged her to her feet, Malfoy slowly advancing on the unsuspecting Snape. He couldn't have known; couldn't have saved himself.

Malfoy unsheathed his knife, slowly tracing the edge with his delicate fingertips. The blade glittered with malice, and Malfoy snickered. "Now, Severus, you'll finally get your true reward."

Snape was still reaching, stretching out his arms and brushing his hands along the carpet, trying to get a handle on his surroundings. He was slowly getting frustrated with his lack of advancement. "Hermione, where _are _you? _Answer me_!"

"She can't answer now," Malfoy whispered as a man clasped her mouth, another tearing her clothing as one more decided on the proper curse to use. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She watched, as Snape remained helpless, Malfoy moving in with deliberate slowness as he looked at his prey. Her heart jumped, panic gripping her like nothing before.

She bit at her captive's hand with vengeance. The man cursed and released her, but only for a second. She sobbed, but managed to shriek one word before she was once again silenced.

"_DRACO!_"

Somewhere, far off, he thought he heard someone scream his name.

It couldn't be, though. He was having such a nice nap.

He didn't remember every _planning_ on having a nap, but it didn't matter. He was relaxed, with the rhythmic beating of drums pounding around him.

His consciousness began to grasp him again.

Wait… _drums_? Where on earth did they come from?

He tried to open his eyes, but his head hurt so _much_. He grimaced, peering over his eyelashes and finding blurry shapes moving above him, partially blocking out that obnoxiously bright light. He felt his lip begin to throb, and finally noticed the coppery flavor of blood on his tongue. He realized the drums were really the noise of the struggle, as three men started grasping at Hermione. One slapped her, and she gasped, her face already covered in maroon blood.

"Stop-"

His voice was only a hoarse whisper. He slowly raised himself up onto his elbows, rolling to the side. He began to remember. Hermione, Snape… His father…

Hermione began to sob as another man punched her in the stomach, hard. The wind obviously knocked out of her, she tried to fall to her knees, gasping. She couldn't, however, because she was roughly pulled up again.

"_No…_"

He stood and pushed himself along the wall, unnoticed by anyone else. Using this to his advantage, he leapt at Hermione's unsuspecting captor.

With a cry of rage, he slammed his shoulder into the ribcage of the man holding Hermione by the arms. He gave a cry of surprise, but flew in the opposite direction, releasing her. She fell to the floor in a heap of clothes and blood, as the man sailed into the statue they had seen before. Knocking his head against the hard marble edge of the base, he was out cold.

The other two men were already on to Draco. Leaving Hermione crumpled on the ground, the cronies advanced on him, one without a wand and the other holding his menacingly out in front of him. Unable to take both of them on, Draco slowly realized he was outnumbered and backed against the wall. "Oh, Merlin-"

On the floor, Hermione had other plans. Sweeping her hair out of her face and rolling onto her stomach, she reached out desperately for Draco's wand. But she couldn't reach.

She just barely brushed it with her fingertips.

Draco felt the first blow to the chest with feverous intensity. He doubled over, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Oh _Circe_, did it _hurt_…

He took a blow to the head. He was definitely going to have a mark tomorrow…

Hermione had to watch out for the feet right over her, but in one deft motion, she leapt for the wand.

"_STUPEFY_!"

The three men fell the floor, twitching. Her anger caused her magic to go haywire, and the fact that she was using another person's wand didn't help either. She wasn't exactly sure what she had really done to them, but the fact was Malfoy's bodyguards were incapacitated.

Draco dropped to Hermione's side. "Hermione, thank you, I-"

"Draco," she looked up at him with terror, "Your father… _Snape_."

Snape stumbled over his own cloak and feet, still trying to figure out where he was. God, he was so _helpless_.

He despised it. He abhorred feeling so alone, depending on other people. He needed to protect her, but how could he do that if he couldn't even see her?

His very heart and soul reached out for her, trying to find her. She was absolutely nowhere within arms reach. He could feel the floor vibrating with a struggle, but had no way of seeing where it was taking place or what was happening. He felt frustrated, lost, and, at the moment, very pissed off.

Suddenly, he felt a force pull him up by his cloak and yank him to his feet, and he stood, trying to regain his balance. The person refused to release him, though, and he grabbed the wrist that held him.

He regretted this however; he felt a hard thrust connect with his torso, and a huge burst of pain erupt through his shoulder. He fell to his knees, feeling himself slowly losing consciousness, as he tried to remember how to breathe. He felt the sky fall, and as he reached towards his wound, he felt his hands become slick and wet with, he supposed, his own blood.

He felt his attacker pull back, and he thought they would be leaving him alone.

He was pushed back against a wall as the pain now exploded in his stomach. His very intestines screamed in agony. Oh, God, he'd never experienced such intense pain from a wound before…

He held on to one thought only as he slipped from the world.

It felt like a knife.

There you go. I'm sorry that took so long to write. I hope you'll all forgive me.

This hasn't been beta-ed, and I wanted to post as soon as possible, so there are probably a lot of errors. I'm sorry.

I'm also sorry if you've noticed a change in my writing style. I'm not sure if there even has been a change, but this story has been at least two years in the making, and I wouldn't be surprised if I've changed some. Sorry.

Anyway, if you're still out there, R&R.


	16. Escape

This is a new record for me. Two new chapters, and all within days of themselves.

I know this isn't as good as it should be, but I know if I don't write it now and get it out, I'll never finish it.

Here you are.

Chapter 15

Hermione watching in absolute horror as Snape's slack form slid partially down the wall, his knees finally falling into contact with the floor. From there, his eyes rolled back into his head, and his body fell forward, causing a huge thud. Malfoy simply watched, his eyebrow cocked in a smug, slightly curious gesture. He made a 'humph' sound, and turned slightly towards them. His victim lay forgot on the floor.

Draco grasped Hermione as she felt herself so limp, falling to her hands besides a boy she had just recently hated. "_No_…"

Draco felt his breath hitch in his chest as his father started walking towards them. He let his knife drop to the floor, still covered in a thin layer of bloody film. His hands were still coated in Snape's blood, and he smirked as he removed a cloth from his cloak and wiped them clean. "I'm so sorry you children had to witness the disposal of such a monster-" he started, but Hermione wouldn't allow him to finish.

"_Liar!_" she cried, struggling to stand and started reaching for Malfoy, but Draco refused to release her. Unable to stand, she succumbed to her tears, and she fell to Draco's side, sobbing. "You enjoyed watching him suffer," she managed through her tears, "You're _horrible_."

"Yes, well, all part of my charm, I should say."

Hermione's face contorted with rage, and Draco was forced to simply watch in fascination. He was unable to register what his father had done. His soul was locked in a monstrous conflict; on the one hand, he was loyal to his father, and wished to remain so. He didn't want to feud with the man who had raised him. On the other, he had a feeling, a gut instinct, that this was wrong. He could feel Hermione's pain and suffering radiating off her in huge gusts of emotion, and he could almost feel his own heart palpitate in response. He knew he still inwardly hated the stubborn, insufferably intelligent Gryffindor, but he knew the killing of a man was a lot worse than being nice to an opposing classmate. If word got out of his father murdering Snape, the Ministry would surely be scouring the house in mere hours. He wouldn't be able to go back to Hogwarts, and may even be considered his father's _accomplice_.

All this thinking was making his head hurt.

Still, his father was drawing closer to them, his wand still drawn and his arm outstretched. "Draco, my boy," he began addressing him, though his eyes held an emotion unknown to Draco; was it anger? "I expected better of you; dealing with the likes of such _filth_." He gestured towards Hermione.

She scrunched her nose in bitter resentment, but was unable to articulate anything.

Draco couldn't think of how to act; who to support. Hermione desperately needed him, but he couldn't completely disregard his father's love.

He and Hermione were helpless. Draco's wand lay a few feet away, and it seemed that Hermione had contracted a leg injury, and refused to put pressure on her right foot. They were both in a fairly sad predicament.

"Father, please," he started, "I-"

"You what?" Malfoy spat, "Don't tell me; you're sorry and you want forgiveness?" He had almost reached them, and his dramatic gesturing caused his wand to swirl back and forth. Draco was unsure of what he was capable of in his drunken anger; he hadn't expected him to flat out kill Snape like that.

"It's too late for that, my son."

Hermione was silent beside him. He could feel her breathing growing heavier, but her struggling had subsided. She was staring pointedly at his father.

She stared darkly up at him. "It's your turn."

In one swift movement, she launched herself across the floor, landing on her stomach in a cry of pain and elation as her hand closed around Draco's wand.

She rolled to the side as Malfoy launched a curse at her, and raised herself up onto her elbows. Raising Draco's wand, her face glowed with triumph, but also with a bitter malice.

"_Crucio!_"

Draco drew a frightful breath and watched in surprise and anguish as his father's crumpled form hit the ground and began convulsing. His screams of utter torment, his hands clutching at his clothing as he tried to rip them from his body. Without even realizing it, Draco was reaching out for him, distress written on his face.

"Father-"

Hermione realized the danger. "Draco, we have to go, there isn't much time!"

"What have you _done_!"

"The only thing I could do!"

Draco spun to face her as she was trying to stand, catching her off guard. She had begun to topple over as he grasped her by the arms and pulled her roughly to him. "You're _killing_ him!"

Hermione's face was full of surprise and tenderness. "He won't die, he's only in pain! He'll start to heal once the curse wears off!" She strained against him, trying to get him to release her. "Unlike Snape!"

She pulled away from him and started quickly trying to make her way to Snape, dragging her wounded leg behind her like an injured dog. Draco was still in minor shock, unable to fully understand what was going on. He watched his father writhe in pain, and wanted to reach out to him; help him. He realized he didn't know how.

"Make it stop, Hermione!" he screamed at her, gesturing towards his father. "Make the pain stop!"

"I have no power over how long the curse lasts," she threw over her shoulder, finally reaching Snape.

She fell to her knees beside him, reaching over him and tugging to roll him over.

He rolled limply into her lap, and she instantly slipped an arm under his head, supporting him. In an instant her hands were drenched with blood, and the sight of it made her stomach churn. "Oh, God," she sighed as she tenderly touched the stab wound to his shoulder. She swept the hair out of her face again, and then looked down to his abdomen. The blood was slowly sweeping through his tattered clothing like a tide. The wound was deep, and she wasn't sure if any of his internal organs had been injured.

Actually, come to think of it, she had no idea if he was even still alive.

She quickly slipped her wet finger down along the elegant curve of his neck, feeling along the underside of his jaw. She felt nothing.

_No._

She pressed harder, trying to make her fingertips sense even the slightest movement. Still, there was no sign of any blood flow.

"_No!_"

She dropped her head to his chest, her own tears coming in contact with his bare skin. She felt the blood spread across her cheek, but she didn't care. She listened for a heartbeat through Draco's screams.

There was none.

She had begun to panic now. Though she knew some types of advanced healing, she'd never dealt with anything that came close to the severity of her current situation. She'd read slightly into it, sure, but nothing that made her feel secure enough to try and keep his heart beating.

Draco, in his confused stupor, had trailed over to her, still watching his father. The curse was beginning to wear off now, and his father was starting to relax. His breathing was ragged and heavy; his limbs were still twitching.

"Is he still alive?"

"I don't know!" shrieked Hermione. "He's not breathing!"

That gave Draco a start. "What?"

Hermione ignored him. In all her reading, there only a select few spells that she remembered. And the only one that she could conjure up from her mind that pertained to her current problem was difficult and complicated to perform.

_I'll just have to breathe for him_.

The particular spell she was thinking of required that the healer connect with the patient in a way that the body of the healer powered the patient's lungs. In essence, the healer forced the patient to breathe, even if the patient was too weak or injured to function himself.

She just hoped that she had enough strength to make it work.

She rested her head upon his chest again, closing her eyes. She started taking deep breaths, and began to chant softly under her breath.

Draco finally drew his eyes always from his father, who had finally come to rest in an unconscious state on the floor in a glorious heap. He watched Hermione mutter as her hands settled onto each side of Snape's chest. Her whispering became more forceful, and her eyelids began to flutter. He suddenly questioned her sanity.

"Hermione, what are you-"

Unexpectedly, Hermione jumped up, her eyes bright and hopeful as Snape drew in a ragged, heavy breath just as she did. He watched some of the color return to Snape's face as Hermione gave a huge grin.

"_Yes_."

Draco gave her a serious, dark glance and grabbed her wrist. "We have to get out of here."

She returned his understanding. "I know."

She took out Draco's wand again, and made to cast another spell on Snape, but then thought better of it. "I shouldn't use your wand; I might hurt him even more." She handed it back to Draco, who shot her a repugnant, confused glare. "Here, you'll have to use it."

She gave him a spell to cast, but he simply stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Just do it!"

He did as she asked, and he watched in fascination as she lifted Snape up onto her shoulders, harboring him as her own burden. "He's not so heavy now."

"But you can't walk. How will you carry him?"

She seemed ready to retort, but found nothing reasonable to answer with. "You'll have to take him then."

Draco scoffed, "There's no way you're getting me to-"

"You _have _to! Just do it!"

He hesitated a moment, but gave a brief sigh, giving in. He took Snape from her, slinging him over his shoulder. He was surprised to find him light as his book bag, though still ungainly to carry.

"Where to?" Hermione asked.

Draco hesitated. "I have no idea."

"Couldn't we use a Portkey?"

"Not unless one was already set up. I haven't any idea as to how to set up one of those."

Hermione sighed, fatigue grating on her veins. "There's nothing we _can _do."

Draco looked to the floor. "We'll just have to use the carriages."

"But that won't get us far."

"There is nothing else!"

Hermione knocked her fist against her teeth.

"Wait!"

Draco looked to her incredulously. "What?"

Hermione's eyes shown with excitement.

"What about the Knight Bus?"

I know that within each chapter, the point of view of the narration tends to change slightly. I'm sorry if that confuses anyone. I don't do it intentionally.

Anyway, I hope it's still keeping all of you out there interested. Hopefully I'll keep churning out chapters for you, but I can't promise much.

Poor Snape. I'll be nice to him after this, I promise.


	17. Back Alive

Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting.

And I'm sure by the end of this chapter you all will be sighing, _finally_!

Draco hesitated, weighing the options.

He'd never ridden on the Knight Bus before. Surely he had heard of it, but his father had always provided more elegant means of transportation. He had no idea how to find the thing, and they were losing time. He could already feel the back of his shirt grow damp with Snape's blood.

"We don't have time for this," said Hermione impatiently, swishing her hair behind her in frustration. "Are there any other options?"

Draco sighed. Though he hated giving in to her, there really wasn't any other choice. "No." He turned to glare at her, "How do you find it?"

"We'll have to go outside. Come on."

Hermione started off towards the end of the hallway, dragging her injured leg behind her. Her walk was slow and ungraceful, but then again, so was Draco's, with his slowly dying professor slung over his shoulder. Every movement drew another spurt of blood onto his clothes. The sound of Snape's feet dragging on the floor followed him as he walked.

They neared the end of the hallway. Hermione leaned against the wall, taking slow breaths. Each one brought a little squeak of pain. Draco continued down a side hallway. "It's not much further now," he beckoned to her, "Only a couple more hallways and a flight of stairs."

Hermione looked up at him incredulously, but continued on, following his lead.

They passed the next two hallways in silence, contemplating what had just happened.

Hermione's thoughts lingered on the curse she had just uttered. She still wasn't sure what had really happened, or why the curse had lasted so long after she had cast it. She figured that it had something to do with the fact that it was Draco's wand, and not hers. She hoped she hadn't left any real damage, but she feared what the ministry would do to her.

If the ministry tracked the curse, they would surely find out that it was she who had cast it, and she would be banned from the wizarding world for sure. She wasn't sure if she could be sent to Azkaban; she technically wasn't 18 yet, and therefore not a legal adult. However, Harry had still been tried before a full court. If he had been for such a minor crime as practicing underage magic outside of Hogwarts, then she definitely would be, for casting an Unforgivable.

Draco's thoughts focused on his future as well. He knew he would never be able to come back home, not after what had just occurred. His father had thought that he had decided to join the Death Eaters, but instead found that Draco had betrayed his trust. He felt his mother would be slightly more understanding, but Draco know she really followed his father. If his father kicked him out, then Draco had nowhere to turn. He would have to rely on Dumbledore, and he really had little faith in the man. At least, his father thought him to be a waste as a headmaster.

As they came to the staircase, Hermione helped Draco carry the unconscious professor down the stairs. It was an uncomfortable task, firstly because he was difficult to carry, and secondly, he was a professor. It was bad enough for Hermione, who had heard of all the horrible things that he had said to Harry. And, of course, had all of his past incidents of malice towards her to go by. He wasn't exactly the easiest man to know or care for. Or to care _about_. Hermione found her uncharacteristic worry startling. Sure, she worried about Harry and Ron. She always had; it was innate with them, especially with the way they always got into trouble. But here, it was a different kind of worry. It pressed more on her heart, weighed more heavily on her shoulders. Not only was Snape completely and utterly dependent on her in all respects, but so were Draco, Dumbledore, her head of house, and Harry and Ron. They all expected her to return to Hogwarts in one piece. At this point, she wasn't so sure they would.

They managed to make it to an exit door. Suddenly they were all standing shivering outside, in the cold, in the _snow_. Hermione had almost forgotten it was December. She hadn't seen the outdoors in… well, she really didn't know how long. They were all without their winter cloaks. Snape wouldn't be able to handle long exposure to such harsh conditions; he was barely stable as it was.

"Hold out your wand."

"What?" Draco sneered.

"Just hold out your god-forsaken wand, you prick." Hermione's temper was steadily wearing thin. All of the pressure, the pain, and the severity of it all pulled down on her; she feared, any minute, she would simply break down into tears.

Slowly, albeit unsurely, Draco did as he was told.

A flash of light blinded them momentarily as they were pushed backwards by the shear force of the bus. Draco practically fell over with Snape's added weight. Hermione helped him become steady again as a young, tall, straggly teenager poked his head out of the door of the Knight Bus.

He began what seemed like an introduction, but then stopped suddenly, mid-sentence. "What 'cho carrying that bloke 'round fo'?" he asked, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

Hermione at first thought to explain, then reasoned against it. "He's in need of medical attention. Can you take us to Hogwarts?"

"You gots enough to pay fo' bus fare?"

Hermione's heart fell to her shoes. She hadn't even thought of paying for the ride. She just managed to barely start uttering incomprehensible syllables of nonsense when Draco grunted besides her and pushed his way up the stairs.

"We really don't have time for this. The man is bleeding to death, for Merlin's sake. Just get us to the castle, or I'll be holding you responsible his death! I can barely feel his pulse as we speak. Drive!"

Hermione was surprised with the way he took command of the situation. She followed him numbly up the steps, taking a seat behind the driver. Draco took his burden and placed him on the seat besides her. She pulled him into something of a cradle as the confused bus boy observed the blood smearing on the back of the seat. Only an older witch sat in the back, eyeing them with distain.

"Alright, Ern, better just take em', before they dirty all them seats."

The bus suddenly started forward, and completely without warning shot off like a bullet. Hermione lurched towards the seat in front of her, feeling Draco hit the back of her seat with a thud and a curse. An array of buildings, foliage, and light flowed past the window, but Hermione had trouble focusing on any of it. She could feel what was left of her last meal begin to gurgle in her stomach. Nausea swept over her in waves, though the rocking motion was somewhat relaxing and calming.

She could feel Draco's hand form a firm grip on the back of the seat behind her head. His body seemed to swerve from side to side with the motion of the ricocheting bus. Snape simply sagged against her, his forehead coming to rest along her jaw, his nose pressing into her neck. She could tell he had lost a lot of blood, but she could still feel his chest rise under her touch.

They stopped as suddenly as they had taken off. Hermione smashed headfirst into the seat in front of her; Draco, who had taken to standing for the entire five-minute bus ride, was flung over her seat and virtually crushed her. He scrambled off of her and pulled his robes straight, a sneer of repugnance hiding his embarrassment. Hermione tugged Snape's limp form to her and awkwardly cradled the tall man against her. Blood glimmered on her hands; she didn't care.

"Ho'warts, to yer right!"

Draco cleared his throat. "Thank you," he managed to mutter. Hermione followed him dutifully out of the bus, trying to keep Snape aloft in her arms. She stumbled down the steps, catching her feet on her cloak. Draco, eyes wide with shock, managed to grab hold of her before her knees gave out.

"Watch yourself," Draco spat.

Quickly she righted herself, though stumbling throughout the process. She had noticed through the short ride that all the adrenaline that had kept her awake for the past few hours was slowly waning. She could feel her muscles begin to protest every move she made. She had trouble focusing, and her brain could hardly process simple information. Really, the amount of stress that she had just been through hadn't even begun to register in her mind. Draco had dark circles of purple under his eyes, and it contrasted deeply with his pale complexion. She could tell he was exhausted, even if he hadn't told her; she could simply feel it.

The doors of the bus slid shut. The bus sped away, but not before Hermione caught sight of the busboy staring at them from the back window.

Draco walked up to the towering gates, his eyes sweeping their height. He drew a deep breath; she could tell he was slowly exhausting what little energy he had left.

"How do we get in? I highly doubt it's as simple as just knocking."

"I have no idea." She shifted Snape, using her hip to alleviate some of his weight off of her arms. "Try something."

And try he did. He racked his brain for every spell he had learned in DADA, but nothing worked in the slightest.

"Any more suggestions, genius?"

"We could shrink ourselves to the size of ants and walk underneath. It worked in _Honey I Shrunk the Kids_."

"Your sarcasm is out of bounds at the current moment, Ms. Granger."

"Well, why am I always the one to be the brains of the operation?"

"Because that's all your good for, you twit!"

Hermione glared at him. "I really don't know what to suggest."

After a few moments of pacing, Draco's eyes suddenly lit up. "What if we send up sparks?"

Hermione rolled her eyes to the heavens, 'tsk'ing again. "A fire isn't going to do anything, Draco."

He shook his head and sighed at her misunderstanding. "No, _sparks_. Like the ones they used at the Triwizard Tournament. Something high enough, bright enough to attract attention. Do you think someone would see them from the castle?"

Hermione actually allowed herself to smile.

"Do it."

"Checkmate."

Harry threw himself against the back of his chair. "Fine."

Ron crinkled his nose, whisking his pieces into the starting position once again with a swish of his wand. "Don't get cranky with me, man."  
"I'm not _cranky_."

Ron gave him a dubious glance. "You're practically like Ginny is at 'that time of the month'." He emphasized his point with little quotation mark finger gestures.

"Oh, so now I'm a girl with PMS?"

"I'd say that's the closest metaphor."

Harry 'hmphed', turning his back to his chess partner as he wandered to the window. "Thanks, mate."

"Well, think about it logically." Ron joined him, plopping himself on one of the red pillows of the window seat. "You snap at everyone-"

"I do _not_!"

"Do you want me to list all the people you've bitten the heads off of today?" Ron began ticking them off with his fingers. "Ginny, Seamus, Dean, Neville…" he paused for a moment, pretending to collect his thoughts. "Professor Flitwick, Filch, _Peeves_, for Merlin's sake-"

"All right, all right, you bloody idiot. I get the point."

"You eat all the junk food you can find, but you don't touch anything at meal times-"

"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked, his voice rising with all the accusations put against him.

"Harry, even _I_ can't go through that many bags of Bertie Bott's Beans in one sitting."

Another 'hmph'.

"You go through emotional circles all day: one minute you're depressed, the next you're having a fit of hysterical giggles, the next, you're homicidal-"

"Name _one_ instance where I tried to kill someone."

"You almost kicked Filch's cat down a flight of stairs."

"Animals don't count." Ron just glared at him.

"You never sleep anymore, you just toss and turn all night. And don't tell me I'm wrong," Ron automatically cut in, holding up a finger to silence Harry's protests. "I see you. You keep _me_ up all night, tossing and turning. You know your bed is the creakiest in the whole dorm."

"Look, I'll go sleep in the common room if you have problems with my sleeping patterns-" started Harry irritably, tired of Ron's diatribe against him.

Ron sighed, looking uncomfortable. "What I'm trying to say, mate, is that I'm worried about you."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"Look, don't get your panties in a twist." He sighed deeply. "I'm just saying, you ever need to talk it out, play some Quidditch, hit something," Ron ran an embarrassed hand through his hair, "I'll understand, all right?"

Harry allowed his shoulders to sag in defeat. He could feel his eyes prickle with emotion; it wasn't every day he and Ron had to talk about stuff like this. Circe, the things Hermione did to them.

"Thanks, man."

"You forget, I miss her, too."

Harry leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I haven't forgotten."

"What the-"

"Huh?" Harry followed Ron's gaze out over the grounds. A shower of red cinders illuminated the sky, reflecting in the drops of melted snow clinging to the window. The silhouette of the gates stood out in sharp contrast against the crimson of the wave of sparks.

Ron was already out the door of the common room when Harry finally came to his senses. He tugged on his winter cloak and threw on some slippers.

"Wait, I'm coming, too!"

Draco let up another shower of sparks.

"Enough already, Draco."

He turned his head just enough to allow his gaze of anger to settle on her. He almost sneered, but caught himself. What could possibly be gained by fighting now, of all times?

He took a seat next to her on the ground, sitting closer than usual in an effort to share body heat. He could feel her shiver, the material of her cloak obviously not meant for winter's harsher months. He drew up a knee and leaned against it, staring out in front of him. "It's impossible that _everyone_ left the school for the holidays."

Hermione coughed next to him and hugged Snape even closer to her. Whether it was for Snape's benefit or her own, he wasn't sure. She nestled her chin in his matted locks, and Draco was sure it was done unconsciously. Closing her eyes, he could tell she was cold as all hell. "I don't know about you, but I have no idea what time it is. It could be three in the morning, for all we know. It's obviously late."

"What about some noise? Do you think that will work?"

"I think we should just accept that there's nothing we can do."

Draco was speechless. "You really expect me to believe that _you_ just said that?"

The tears came. "Draco, I'm just so _tired _of _thinking_. I'm tired of _running_, of trying to wiggle out of all the _problems _we seem to keep getting into. We've gotten this far, it figures that we would die on Hogwart's doorstep."

He fell before her, taking hold of her shoulders and giving her a hard shake. "I won't take that kind of talk from you, Hermione Granger. You may be a 'dirty mudblood', but I'd expect more from you in the intellectual department."

She started sobbing. "Draco, I don't think he's going to make it…"

For the first time, Draco was forced to take a good look at Snape. From the way he looked on the outside, Draco was sure he shouldn't have made it _this_ far. His raven hair was matted and dirty, and hung clumps dried with blood, framing his face. His skin was pale, even for Snape, and Draco could barely tell he was breathing.

"Hermione-"

He tried to comfort her, but she seemed beyond help. He felt that there was very little he could do, anyway; they were enemies, and they both knew that. Sure, they had grown closer in the past five days or so, but he was sure it would revert as soon as they started classes once more. There was no way to remedy the great rift between the haves and the have-nots; the 'purebloods' and the 'mudbloods'.

He could tell she was slowly fading. She struggled to remain conscious; her eyes fluttered shut for a few moments before she shuddered awake, but her body was obviously exhausted. She had taken a good amount of damage fighting off his father's cohorts. He wasn't sure what kinds of injuries she had sustained beyond her injured foot. He was sure she wouldn't hold out much longer.

"Look, Hermione." He forced her to look at him. "We may have just experienced the seven levels of hell. It was hard to get through; we didn't have Vergil to guide us-"

"I didn't know you read Dante," she whispered, and he realized that she was actually paying attention.

"Stop interrupting, just listen. I know we're not lovers, friends, or even really acquaintances, but I have to say that I believe we have found a mutual respect. And I'm not asking you to like me, or even really trust me, but at least _believe me_ now, when I say we're going to make it into Hogwarts alive. Do you hear me?"

Her lip began to quiver, but she managed to nod in response.

"Who's there?"

Draco and Hermione both jumped at the sudden shout. The voice echoed from somewhere inside the gates; they couldn't see much, with the darkness and the snow flurries that created something of a fog. Hermione reached out and grabbed Draco's sleeve, though whether it was out of hope or fear, he wasn't sure.

"Answer me! We're fully armed!"

"Help, please! We're students!" Hermione tried to yell, but her voice was mostly shot. She could only manage a hoarse whine.

There was a long pause. A light slowly began to shimmer a few yards away. It seemed like an orb simply danced through the air, but Draco was sure it was a _lumos _spell. He couldn't really make out the figures yet, but he hoped they weren't as menacing as they seemed to him now. He knew they wouldn't harm students; at least, not when they were inside the halls of the school.

"We're students!" he cried in a mimic of Hermione, grasping the bars of the gate. His hands immediately felt the freezing cold of the metal. "Please, we need a medi-witch! Fetch Madame Pomfrey!"

"Draco?"

Someone had called out his name from the distance, but he couldn't place the voice. Hermione was leaning against his leg, slowly losing consciousness. "Harry?" she whispered, recognizing the voice at once.

Draco felt his blood boil at the thought. His mortal enemy was to be his savior. "Potter, you bloody prick, is that you?" he yelled.

"Yup, it's him, professor," he heard the same person say through heavy breaths, as if he were running. He could tell they were quickly getting closer. The bouncing ball of light suddenly was connected to a wand, and Draco could make out a violet set of robes and a tall hat. _Dumbledore_.

Draco fell to his knees, shaking Hermione out of her exhausted stupor. "Hermione," he felt her shiver, "Damn, I shouldn't have let you fall asleep. _Granger_!"

Her eyelids began to flutter.

"Pick up Snape and look alive, they're here."

He slipped his arms under hers from behind and lifted her to her feet. She remained clutching Snape to her. She had trouble finding her equilibrium, and stumbled backwards against him. "I can't-"

"Don't give me that, you _have_ to-"

"Draco!" Another phantom voice called out to him, "Who is with you?" It seemed much older, wiser. It must have been Dumbledore.

He cradled Hermione against him as she went limp. "No, no, no, you don't," he chided, holding her out in front of him like a rag doll. "_Wake up_!" He was able to make her stand this time. He called over her shoulder. "Professor, I have Hermione and Snape with me. Please hurry, they're both in bad shape!"

He could see the shimmering reflections of light in both Dumbledore and Harry's glasses; the tall gangly teen that followed behind them, Draco figured, was Ron. He finally noticed a figure, thin, tall, and walking briskly; he suspected McGonagall.

"Please, hurry!"

Dumbledore reached them first; Draco was surprised to see new lines of worry etched deeply into his face. He cast a tricky spell, and with a lot of wand waving, the huge gate began to creak open. Draco was forced pull Hermione, heavily laden with Snape, away from the heavy creations of metal.

McGonagall followed Harry and Ron to the scene. She stopped abruptly and immediately reached out a hand to Dumbledore, placing it on his arm tenderly in a sign of disbelief. "Oh, Albus," she sighed, her eyes trailing over Draco and Hermione, and as she noticed Snape all the color drained from her face. "_Severus-_"

She rushed to Hermione and took him from her. Hermione seemed reluctant to release her burden to another, like a mother loosing her child to the world. She refused to let go of his cloak; Dumbledore was forced to come and pry her worn, bloody fingers from the dirty, torn material.

"Let him go, child. He's in good hands."

Hermione could only let out a whimper, and as she found herself empty handed for the first time in five days, she felt helpless. She fell to her knees before Dumbledore, but he managed to catch her. Even in his old age, he kept her from hitting the ground and swept the broken child into his arms. She succumbed to unconsciousness in his protective hold.

"Boys, back to the castle. Alert Madame Pomfrey."

Harry and Ron obeyed, but not before glancing back at Hermione one last time. They, two, were pale as ermine, and seemed jumpy and tense. They scampered away, sprinting at full speed towards the school.

Draco stood numbly, unsure of what to do now that he was being taken care of. For the first time in days, he didn't have to think about his next move, or how to stay out of the line of fire. He didn't know how to relax, but he was sure he would be put to sleep nicely under Pomfrey's care.

He fell in step with Dumbledore, who followed McGonagall up to the steps of the castle. Dumbledore seemed tired, though alert and stern. He cradled Hermione with such care and love; Draco could have mistaken her for Dumbledore's own child.

Dumbledore sighed, and Draco glanced towards him. He could just barely make out the rims of his glasses in the clouds of snow, but he could feel his powerful presence.

"You couldn't possibly comprehend how thankful we are to have you three back alive, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco felt all the weight lift from his shoulders.

_We're back. _

"Thank you for seeing that they returned home, Draco."

_We're home_, Draco thought with inordinate pleasure. _Merlin, we're home_.

Well, I think that was a pretty long chapter; at least, for me.

I'd like to apologize (that seems to be all I do nowadays!) for

1) Poor grammar

2) Poor spelling

3) Poor sentence structure

4) Taking so freakin' long to get this out.

Every time I put out a chapter, I think, "Hey, now I've got some time in between chapters. I can take a little while." But that little while turns into months, and I end up forgetting about this story, leaving everyone hanging. I don't do it intentionally. But then I read all of your wonderful reviews, and I realize that there are people who are waiting for me to finish. And to all of you, I'm sorry! I'll try and keep going.

I also realized that there are many problems with this story. First, I can pick out so many grammar mistakes. There are also, I feel, some inconsistencies within the story itself. I started this story when I was about 14 or 15… therefore, the beginning chapters are very childish, while some of the later chapters may seem more mature (I hope :P) I'm also sort of letting this story walk on its own… I'm not really sure where it's going to end up. Anyway, I plan to go back and rework this story; once it's finished, that is. I don't want to leave people hanging. Just realize that I understand some of it doesn't work, and some of it needs changing. I'll get around to it.

Again, thanks for putting up with me. I hope this chapter agrees with you, and that you're still enjoying this story.

R&R if you're still out there.


	18. Lost and Found

I have no beta reader, so all mistakes are mine. If you find any, bringing them to my attention will get them fixed. Thank you!

Happy Reading!

Chapter 17

As warmth and feeling flooded through her extremities, Hermione began to stir. Ron perked up and smacked Harry on the back of the head sharply. Harry jerked, his head popping up from where it had rested against his arm.

"Whasamatter?" he slurred, adjusting his glasses as he stretched languidly.

Ron jumped to his feet. "She's waking up. Just look. I saw her eyelids move."

Harry harrumphed. "Madame Pomfrey said that might happen. Just wait for her to start talking, _and then_ wake me up. I was actually getting some good sleep there."

Ron gestured wildly towards their friend, who lay under multiple covers of the finest down feathers that Hogwarts had to offer. A small screen floated above her head, emitting sharp noises every time she took a breath. Every small movement caused another bout of noise, and it reassured Harry and Ron that she was in good hands. Madame Pomfrey made her rounds every hour, but her attention was mainly focused elsewhere.

While Hermione received her much needed rest with her friends by her side, Pomfrey swept back and forth out of the small enclosed area in the back of the infirmary where Snape was being healed. Dumbledore had called St. Mungo's Hospital as soon as they had arrived back at the castle; he knew that even though Madame Pomfrey was the best of the best, there were certain things that couldn't be done by a school nurse.

Ron and Harry had expected to be filled in as they made progress on Snape's condition, but they were expertly ignored by all the professors and St. Mungo's doctors that arrived. Hermione was quickly and expertly assessed; though she had taken a lot of damage, she was strong and had begun to heal already. She wasn't losing much blood, and her ankle was quickly set right and bandaged. The boys knew she would be upset about losing the mobility in her foot for as long as she had to keep the bandage, but it was a small price to pay to have her back alive.

Snape, however, was another story. It took hours for the doctors from St. Mungo's to stabilize him. He needed several blood transfusions, and Harry and Ron saw them carrying in bags and bags of magically manufactured platelets. After a few hours, the hustle died down, though Dumbledore remained in the enclosure with Snape long after everyone had left. Madame Pomfrey stayed in the infirmary to make rounds every few minutes, and the boys were finally allowed to sit with Hermione safely without being in the way.

Still, there was little improvement from her. She stirred slightly every once in a while, although she never woke. She simple tossed and sighed, whimpering every so often. It twisted Ron's heart to see her in pain; Harry sighed heavily and turned away as if to block out the sound. Eventually, exhaustion got the best of Harry and he fell asleep, half leaning against the side of Hermione's bed, half against Ron. Ron remained awake; he felt he owed it to Hermione.

The guilt he felt for leaving her behind at Honeydukes bit at him. Though somewhere he knew it wasn't his fault, he still felt that if he had stayed behind, he may have been able to prevent her kidnapping. Self-loathing kept him from getting any sleep anyway.

He found himself infuriated with Snape. Why hadn't he helped her? Did he find himself falling back into his Death Eater ways once he came face to face with Lucius? Ron's blood boiled at the thought of Snape choosing his old cronies over a young student.

Harry discovered that he wasn't ready to deal with all the stress of Hermione returning in such a disheveled state. Instead of mulling over every single scenario of what could have happened, he let sleep overtake him. It was something he had been unable to do ever since Hermione's disappearance. Now that he knew exactly where she was at all times, he was able to allow himself to relax and take some much needed down time. His dreams were vivid and uneasy; he had almost reached the REM sleep cycle when Ron had nudged him.

"I'm telling you, she's waking up."

Harry smirked and repositioned himself, ready to fall back asleep. "Whatever, man."

Hermione shifted stiffly, her upper lip turning into a sneer as a whine of discomfort reached Ron's ears. She reached up quickly with her free hand to rub at her neck, pulling at the monitor Madame Pomfrey had placed there. Seeing her begin to panic, her eyes still closed as she surfaced from sleep, Ron grabbed for her hand and pulled it away.

"No, Hermione, leave it there," he soothed. "Shhh. Let it alone."

She rolled her neck and Harry cringed as it popped. She sneered in pain again, reached across her chest with a hand covered in bruises to pull at the monitor again. Ron clutched her wrist, pulling both of her hands together. He smoothed the skin across her knuckles, pacifying her with calm, steady words and a soft voice. "You're home, kiddo," he soothed, though his heart broke at the sight of her. "Nothing to fear now."

She tossed once more so that she faced him. Her eyelids shot open as she pulled in a shocked breath. Startled chocolate irises settled upon a familiar face. "_Ronald_," she mouthed, her voice too weak.

He tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Yeah, it's me, kid. Good to have you back."

Her sneer turned into a broad smile; he knew if she wasn't rendered immobile by the tranquilizers Madame Pomfrey had given her to help her sleep, she would have launched herself at him in a triumphant hug. Harry soon realized he wasn't lying, and that Hermione had really surfaced from her slumber.

"There you are, 'Moine," he sighed, "we knew you'd come back."

She hiccupped through her tears of relief. Harry ruffled her bangs, making her smile.

"How are you feeling? Anything that needs to be taken care of?"

She tried to clear her throat, but failed. "_Water," _she croaked.

"On it," said Harry quickly before bolting from the room.

Ron looked away awkwardly, but remained clutching her hands. It was the only way he could remain connected to her in a way she would understand. He could talk all he wanted, but somehow, it didn't seem appropriate right now. As she slid her fingers between his, he realized she somehow understood.

She tugged at his hands, trying to get his attention. He looked to her with confusion. "_Snape_," she whispered.

He swallowed slowly. Strange how such a strong, brilliant creature could be concerned about the bastard. "He's being treated right over there," he said, gesturing with a head jerk.

She glanced over with just her eyes, looking back as she swallowed again. "_How bad_?"

Ron shook his head. "McGonagall swept him up here as fast as she could. They have professionals from Mungo's here. They've been working non-stop since they arrived." He sighed. "Still, he was in a bad way."

She turned away, her eyes settling on the ceiling. She blinked quickly; Ron could see the tears in her eyes.

"Listen, 'Moine, just focus on getting yourself better. I'm sure he'll pull through." _He may pull through fine, but he won't be once I'm done with him_, Ron thought violently.

Harry returned with a goblet full of glistening water, equipped with an extra long straw. Ron helped her up into a sitting position when she felt she was ready, and Harry held the straw and made sure she took moderate, slow sips.

Hermione was slowly perking up. Her pale face was now rosy and she looked very much alive. _As she should_, remarked Ron. _She's been asleep for a day_.

And she had. Night fell silently again as the trio sat silently, reveling in the comfort of friendship and closeness. After a while, she allowed the boys to sit with her on her bed as they told her of all the things she had missed in her absence.

"And Ron managed to master a charm that had Neville scrambling for all his things. They ended up glued to the ceiling; it was almost impossible to get everything down," Harry remarked, laughing with Ron at the memory. "Though Neville's become skillful; he jinxed Ron's knickers, turning them into metal. He had a fun time trying to get those off."

"Speaking of Neville, he'll want to see you once you're ready," said Ron. "He's still feeling bad about Honeydukes."

She smiled, but Ron could tell her heart wasn't behind it. She kept stealing glances at the curtained entrance of Snape's enclosure when she thought he wasn't looking.

Suddenly an uncomfortable silence fell around them as Madam Pomfrey strode purposefully out of the enclosure. Harry saw Hermione tense as she came over to check her vitals. She would probably want to ask her some personal questions as well. Harry cleared his throat. "Well," he started, "I think it's time we left and let you get some rest. Don't you think, Ron?"

"Wha? But she's only just woken up, Harry, can't we-"

Harry gave him a strong glare. Ron sighed, but gave in. "All right, don't get your panties in a wad. We'll go." He gave her hands one last squeeze before sliding off of the bed. "You'll be up and running in no time, just watch." She allowed herself to smile, but it wasn't one that reached her eyes.

Harry ruffled her hair again. "We'll bring you some books to keep you busy. I'm sure I could bribe McGonagall into allowing me to bring you some homework," said Harry with a wink.

"Not in my hospital, you won't," scolded Pomfrey. "That's all the time you're allowed with her today, boys. Now shoo!"

Reluctantly, they left. Ron gave her another smile before closing the hospital door behind him. Pomfrey continued to flit around her, checking this, adjusting that.

Slowly, Hermione tested the waters. "Madam Pomfrey? How is Professor Snape?"

Pomfrey froze for a moment before continuing her ministrations, and Hermione caught it. "I'm not allowed to disclose that information, Ms. Granger."

"Can I see him, Madam?"

Again she paused, but this time, she didn't try to hide it. "I do not believe it wise, Ms. Granger."

This time, Hermione could not hide her impatience. She threw off her covers, swinging one leg over the side of her bed and started to stand. "Please, Madam, I need to see him."

Pomfrey allowed one second for her face to register panic before she forced Hermione back into her bed, securely under her covers. "Now, child, there will be none of that. You need _much_ rest, and Dumbledore's orders are that no one is to enter the room that has not already been allowed in."

Hermione hardly felt that was fair, but knew better than to fight. If she could get Pomfrey to leave, she could sneak in later.

"Dumbledore will be in to see you, but he is a very busy man at the current time. I'm sure it won't be for a few hours."

Hermione settled back into bed restlessly. Pomfrey finished her examination and left her to go back to sleep. She gave her another goblet of juice to drink. "Helps raise your electrolytes and keep those kidneys working, dear," she reassured. She realized right after she took the first sip that it was laced with a Sleeping Draught. Slowly her eyelids drooped and she fell into a deep slumber.

Days passed, but Dumbledore did not come to see her. Most of her time was spent sleeping, but two days before Christmas, she spent her first full day awake. The boys were allowed in to see her more frequently. They snuck in pastries and sweets for her to eat; however, she had to watch what she ate because her monitor would register the heightened level of sugar in her blood and Pomfrey would find the offending sweets and confiscate them. Her mood lifted with her frequent interaction with them. It was good to be back in the world with other living, breathing people. She had been quite aware of how alone she was in that quiet, desolate cell. Now, she was truly thankful for what she had with her friends.

Neville visited shortly after she had stayed awake for more than two hours at a time. The guilt was written across his flushed cheeks; she could feel his discomfort. However, once she forced him to come over and give her a hug, she could visibly see the weight lift from his shoulders. He brought her flowers from the greenhouses; he had made sure they were harmless before bringing them inside the building. He explained how even during her short absence, his potions grade had greatly increased with the substitute professor.

Draco never came to see her. While she realized their short alliance had only been formed out of desperation, she had hoped that he would have more maturity than to forget her as soon as they arrived at school. Still, she knew he had a reputation to maintain, and chalked it up to that instead of accepting the fact that he hadn't matured as much as she had thought.

They brought her books to read to keep her boredom levels down. While Pomfrey forbid homework in her hospital, they brought her Muggle books that she had kept in her dormitory. _Snow Falling on Cedars _and _Stones from the River_ kept her occupied for a short while, but she found herself growing restless at her mandatory captivity.

Everyday, she wondered about Snape. The anxiety at not receiving any information about his current condition grew inside of her until she felt she couldn't hold it in. However, she knew she couldn't go gallivanting into his enclosure; there were still mediwitches and wizards from St. Mungo's in there. She would be discovered in no time.

The day before Christmas, however, all the St. Mungo's wizards and witches left, leaving the enclosure dark and desolate. While Pomfrey still made rounds, Hermione realized all that could be done had been done. She worried that it was too late; that Snape was in too bad a shape and he would never recover.

Around noon, she engrossed herself in _The Pact_. While she usually read books of more literary merit, she found the simple language and straight-forward story line pleasing. Right when she was about to discover the outcome of the trial, she heard a moan rumble from the currents surrounding Snape's enclosure.

She immediately stiffened; the book fell to her lap in a swift movement. Her eyes flitted to the curtains; the same deep maroon as the ones in her dorm. Again, she heard the noise. This time, more persistent. She heard a creak and a hiss of pain.

_He's alive_ was the only thought she could allow her brain to process. She glanced towards Pomfrey's office; she was currently out to lunch. If she planned it right, she could be in and out of Snape's room without her even having the faintest clue.

She steadily flipped back the covers and swung her legs over the mattress. Her ankle was stiff and painful with mending and lack of use. She hissed as she stood and applied pressure. Her spine cracked and her ankle protested, but she began moving toward the end of the room slowly.

Again, she heard a groan. Her pace quickened with purpose and anxiety. What was wrong with him? Pomfrey probably had him on a Sleeping Draught like she had been. So why was he even awake?

She reached the curtains. For a second she hesitated; she shouldn't invade his privacy. But still, she was concerned.

Emotion overriding her sense of reason, she made a grab for the material and swung, almost falling after losing her balance.

The curtain made no noise; it was magically held in place with charms. Hermione gasped at the vision before her.

While she had only had one monitor, Snape seemed to have at least ten; one for every conceivable section of his body. Some were different colors; she recognized the areas where he had received deadly wounds had monitors that were deep red. Other monitors were blue, others green. Each had constantly scrolling text keeping tabs on all of his bodily systems.

He was stretched out on a stark white bed, piled high with several heavy down blankets like she had had when she had been bedridden. Still, he shivered. One of the monitors was emitting a high pitched beeping, yet Madame Pomfrey wasn't around to help him. His brow was dotted with sweat, and he tossed and turned in discomfort.

She realized he was being restrained; they had used soft sheets to keep him from moving from the bed. While she considered using the _Immobilus_ spell, it was possible that he could get bed sores from constant lack of movement. This way, he could still move slightly, yet he was restrained from getting off of the bed. Still, it seemed very barbaric.

As she stood simply taking everything in, he managed to free himself from one restraint. Having one hand free allowed him to untie the other. Soon, he was sitting up in the bed, his fingers tearing at the restraints at his feet. With those taken care of, his fingers reached for the monitors the Mediwizards had attached to his body. She began to panic as he wretched them off; how could he heal if he was fighting the powers trying to help him?

She hurried over to his bedside and made a grab for his wrists; she missed, but managed to graze his skin with her fingertips. Noticing someone else there, and not knowing it was her, he swung at her, catching her in the stomach.

Stumbling, she settled on the floor to catch her breath. She watched as Snape awkwardly stood from the bed, unsteady on feet that hadn't been used for a few days. Unbalanced and unable to see, he shifted forwards with his arms outstretched and his hands reaching, trying to find something to make contact with.

Regaining her composure, Hermione raised herself from the ground. He was panting with the effort of movement, still seeking something to grab onto. She realized he had been out cold for the trip home; he had no idea where he was. She padded silently over to him, trying to get his attention. She touched his arm softly.

He was so startled that he swung his arm out to hit her. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" he bellowed as he collapsed to his knees. Encircling his waist with an arm for protection he tried to breathe steadily. His chest was exposed; she could see the gruesome scars from where Lucius had stabbed him. One was very close to his diaphragm and Hermione suspected that was the reason he was having trouble breathing.

Suddenly, the curtain swung open again, this time revealing a furious Dumbledore and a worried Pomfrey. McGonagall was just behind, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

"Ms. Granger, _what_ on earth are you doing!" demanded Dumbledore.

Pomfrey was aghast. "Oh, goodness," she sighed.

Hermione ignored them. She was far more concerned with the man before her.

He was leaning his back against the wall in a sitting position, exhausted and weak. Her heart filled with emotion to see him in such a pathetic state. Instead of shying away from his obvious attacks of rage, she fell to her knees before him, swiping her hair behind her ears in concentration. Inching forward as to not startle him, she got so close that their knees where almost touching.

"Please," he whined, too weak to fight, "let me be."

She placed her hand against his, but again, he lunged out to hit her. He caught her in the jaw and she cried out, raising her hand to the rising bruise. She heard Dumbledore and Pomfrey gasp in shock. Still, she did not back down. Eyes glistening with tears of pain, she made one last attempt to connect with him.

Quickly she grabbed his hand, and before he could react, raised it to her hair. It was the only thing she had with her that could help her connect with him; it was the only thing she could think of.

At first, he didn't understand. His face contorted with confusion as his fingers traced her curls. Slowly, he leaned forward and touched it to his face; it was then Hermione remembered that smell was the sense most strongly associated with memory.

Suddenly, it seemed to become clear to him. Realization dawned on his face.

Dumbledore was furious. "Ms. Granger, I _must_ insist that you leave this very-"

Snape began to relax. "_Hermione…_"

A laugh of elation and surprise escaped her. Tears traveled down her face, and all three teachers were silenced behind her.

She touched his hand again, forcing her palm against his, proving it was her. Her hand seemed so small in comparison to his long graceful fingers. He traced her lifeline, proving through touch that it really was her before him.

"You didn't think I'd leave you, did you?" she whispered, though she knew he still couldn't hear her. She raised a hand to his cheek, rubbing the pad of her thumb along his cheekbone and temple. He leaned into her hand, raising his own to cover hers. Their fingers overlapped and intertwined, creating a bond of trust and reassurance.

"I'd never leave you behind," she whispered, then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him as she broke down against his neck.

He responded by engulfing her in his arms, smoothing her hair as he pressed his face against the crown of her head. "I was so frightened for you, Hermione," he whispered, not knowing the professors could hear him. "I thought I had lost you."

She smiled into his neck, finally feeling at peace with herself. "You'll never lose me."

Sorry about the long gap between chapters. I'm going through some tremendous changes in my life. Let's hope it doesn't take that long between chapters again.


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